Code Geass: Enduring Retribution (Rough Draft)
by Xlerons
Summary: Following his demise upon the completion of the Zero Requiem, Lelouch awakens only to find himself within the arms of his late mother, Marianne, as a freshly newborn infant. Now, armed with the mind of another life and a second chance to begin anew, Lelouch seeks to create the peaceful world envisioned by his sister Nunnally. Time - Travel. Lelouch as an Ace Knightmare Pilot.
1. Chapter I - Birth of a Demon

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

"_" - Regular Speech

'_' - Unheard Thoughts

 _"_ __"_ \- Radio Communication

 **"** **_"** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

 ** _Chapter I: Birth of a Demon_**

Death. It is the universal truth of life, that which is feared by all men. Men have always feared the unknown, and no question has plagued generations of philosophers and theists more so than what lies beyond life's end. Are there such places such as heaven and hell, or is death followed by nothing more than a murky blackness, a realm where the soul is doomed to reside for the remainder of eternity, driven mad by an endless extent of isolation, with the mind acting as its sole company? Better yet, could it be that, on the contrary, there is but void following one's demise, and that the notions on what lies beyond being all but ideas concocted by the human psyche as it attempts to find comfort in what can never truly be known? Whatever the reality may be, it remains an undeniable certainty that some measure of fear, no matter how minute, makes itself be known to those standing upon the verge of death. Lelouch was human. He was no different.

Lelouch knew what followed death. He had seen with his own eyes, etched with the sigils of Geass they were, the World of C, the Collective Unconscious. He knew that, once his time within realm of mortals had come to an end, he would become, not in body but in spirit, part of said greater collective, reduce to not but another voice, an accumulation of memories, within the vast and immense array of past men and women, persons whom had once played a role upon the Earth alongside the living. And yet, despite such knowledge, his fear would not, could not be dissuaded. He did not wish to die, it had never been part of his original plan. He knew sacrifices would have to be made, the creation of a new world being unachievable without the destruction of the old. He had expected to lose things he held dear along the way, his own humanity sacrificed at various key points of his journey, with some made by necessity and others by circumstance. In had been, in any case, a harsh and, overall, unforgiving road. To bear the sins of the world was no easy task, no matter the strength or determination of the individual. Even Atlas had struggled, a God he may have been, when he held the Earth within the sky, his back bent under the strain.

But despite the pains, despite the suffering, he knew it was worth it. A world, where peace reigned over war, where the strong aided the weak, not subjugate them, a place where Nunnally, one where Euphie, could, or could have been, happy. He had regrets, as every condemned man would, but he could not deny his own creation. Too many lives had been lost, too much blood had been spilt. There was no turning back.

As 'Zero' plunged his sword through his abdomen, Lelouch vi Britania, 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, felt nothing but a brief moment of pain. Yet despite lasting not but a few precious seconds, the pain was excruciating. His body felt aflame as the blade cut its way through skin, flesh and bone, severing his innards and fracturing his spinal column, at which point the pain subsided into nothing more but dull ache. As blood began to poor from his body and pool at its feet, Lelouch began to feel a chill. He grew increasingly cold, as if the air around him had suddenly fallen to temperatures below freezing, his eyesight beginning to lose focus, a haze growing around the peripherals of his vision.

As his body feel and slid down along his float, what little strength he had left his weakened body, his heart slowing its rhythmic beating, his lungs faltering as he gasped for air. In but a few moments, he had gone from being a healthy individual to one moments away from certain death.

He didn't hear his sisters cries, the wailing emerging from Nunnally's throat as she pleaded him to remain, his hearing had already faded. His eyesight had left him, his mind registering nothing but darkness. His body was limp, with no energy left to even twitch. His life flashed before him, a film, one filed with tragedy, comedy, danger and loss, short yet grand. His mind lingered, who knows how long, on visions of Nunnally and C.C., the former his motivation, the latter his witch. A brief smile made itself appear upon his blue tinted lips. He would cry if he could, but his time had come. After all, eternity is a long time to review his actions, not to mention the input of countless billions of individuals' opinions on his actions.

As death came ever closer, a measly few words made themselves known from his mouth, "I destroy…the world…and create it…anew."

And so, Lelouch vi Britania, CEO of the Order of the Black Knights, Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire and Ruler of Earth, the Demon Emperor, died.

Light. It was the first thing he saw once the darkness had enveloped him. It was not blinding, however it was far from pleasant. To put things simply, it was bright.

"Where am I?" Lelouch thought.

He felt light, as if his body weighed nothing. As he tried to move, he realized he was unable too, his arms and legs enveloped in an apparently white cloth, one that wrapped itself around his body, keeping him warm and in place. And then, as if woken from a drunken stupor, he heard, "It's a boy!"

And his mind went reeling.

Marianne was ecstatic. Nine months of torturous patience, nine months of anticipation, had finally come to an end. In her arms, the young woman held a small, pale figure, her son. His eyes were colored a deep violet, originating from his father, while his hair was a raven black, one identical to her own.

Her infant son, newly born, rested in her arms. He was rather thin, even for a newborn, and seemed fragile in comparison in comparison to the other imperial children who'd been born recently.

'I'll have to get some meet on those bones.' She thought to herself, smiling contently as she cradled the child, basking in the warm sunlight which shone into her second floor bedroom within the Aires Villa.

To her right stood a both an urge and doctor, both requested specifically from the imperial hospital at her request, essentially an order considering her status as empress, whom she had trusted with her monthly, and more recently weekly, checkups since the beginnings of her pregnancy.

To her left stood a man, tall and brooding, large in stature and indifferent in appearance, the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles zi Britania. His eyes were cold, displaying no emotion but a faint glint of hope, a he stared at yet another child of his.

His presence diffused an aura of impatience an uncaring, his hoping that the visit would end soon. Most of his ministers and children were rather incompetent, so it was necessary that he get back to his work before long, lest said aforementioned persons bring the empire to ruin through who knows what paltry decisions or schemes. The only reason he had come to visit in the first place was that this birth was one of Marianne's. She was a special case, one which demanded his attention, one which he actually cared about. It had made quite a sensation when he announced to court he would be visiting her when he had been informed she had gone into labor. The emperor had never visited any of his wives, not even his first, when they had gone into labor, instead choosing to carry on with his courtly duties as he always did on the day to day business. It therefore came as a shock when he simply walked out of public court as he informed them of the nature of his leave, the majority of the nobles an royal family members staring open mouthed as he left, their minds full of hatred for the commoner become empress, as if she were better than them. But Charles paid no mind, they were too weak or too scared to move against him, so matter what they believed, and so he kept moving, with Bismarck at his heel, casting worried glances around him as he mentally warned off any sings of ill will towards his majesty.

He would have gone in any case, as knowing Marianne, she would have never let him live it down. She had already broken into court on horseback over nothing but a denied audience, so what if he were to miss the birth of her first child? He inwardly shuddered at the possible implications and choose the more rationale course of action: To visit her and not find out.

And so there he stood, towering above the three, now four other people in the room, staring down upon the small figure handle against his beloved's chest. He honestly hoped this one would be different, his other offspring being such disappointments but a few, such a Schneizel or Cornelia. After all, this one came from his Marianne, the most lively and actually capable of his wives, so it would make sense for this child to be different. But he squashed that hope soon after it had entered his mind, ensuring he would not come to feel only more disappointment in the future should he be proven wrong.

'Only time will tell.' He thought.

And so, with nothing but a quick word of congratulations, Charles zi Britannia left his favorite wife and newest child alone in their room and walked out the door.

All the while such thoughts had gone though the emperor's head, Marianne had been paying attention to the figure in her arms, examining it as if she were a scientist and it a slide under a microscope, when she noticed something strange. The child had been silent the entire time. It did not wail as it left her womb, it did not cry as the doctor had spanked it. In fact, it had not made a single utterance of sound since the ordeal of her labor had ended. Instead, and rather unnerving to here, it starred, it observed. Those eyes of his looked around the room, shock registering within them for nothing but a second, then turning into a sort of wondering interest. Their was a glint of happiness within them, almost nostalgic in appearance, a he observed his surroundings. To make matters even more interesting, those violet orbs of his expressed considerable knowledge and understanding, as if they had seen another life.

Such observations gave Marianne both a quick feeling of pride but also unease, wondering about the implications of what she was seeing.

'What kind of child have i given birth to?' She thought.

It would be something to think about another day, her current state being one of weakness and fatigue, despite it being no latter than noon. And so, without further ado, Marianne close her eyes and slumbered, her newborn son, Lelouch, cuddle in her arms, the doctor and nurse leaving discreetly and closing the doors behind them as they left.

Lelouch was confused. Lelouch was incensed. One moment he lay dying, the next he was in his mother's arms, a freshly born babe. To say he was shocked was, by far, an understatement.

'What happened?' He thought.

There he lay, cuddle against a slumbering Marianne's bosom, the mind of a 17 year old imprisoned within the body of an infant.

Observing his surroundings, Lelouch realized he was within his mother's chambers at the Aires Villa, something he realized as he called upon memories of his, now seemingly 'past' childhood.

Unable to move, the young prince resigned himself to his position and choose to follow his mother's example, allowing slumber to overtake him until a time where he would be able to do otherwise.

And so, as the bliss of sleep crept upon his vision, Lelouch thought, an invisible smirk upon his face, "Well then…this should prove interesting."

Hidden within the shadows of the room, a lone figure remained, contently staring with interested eyes at the two humans whom played in bed, sleeping in peace. Clad in a blue business suit, her long, green hair flowing freely behind her back, C.C. sat in one of the rooms many Victorian styled chairs, observing, listening. Her contractor had finally given birth after several hours of labor, a process that had annoyed her to no end as the screams of pain echoed around the room. Marianne may be both strong in body and will, labor is still a more than difficult process. At least Marianne had the luxury of bearing children, something she herself did not believe she was able to do, nor had she found such an individual with whom she would wish to have children with in the first place. Such are the problems of immortals. More importantly though, is that the constant sounds echoing through the villa had distracted her from her pizza, made specifically by the royal chef, one whom had grown so accustomed to the witch's demands that he made several a day in advance and freezes them should they be required at a late time, often sooner than later.

And while this was far from the first time she had seen the so called 'miracle of life', this child in particular, Marianne's son, intrigued her to no end. She would keep a close eye on him, he may be privy to becoming her next contractor should her current one fail to uphold her side of the bargain.

So C.C. sat there, watching the two figures rest upon the bed, as she ate what could be her fourth or fifth pizza of the day.


	2. Chapter II - The Black Prince

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

 ** _Chapter II: The Black Prince_**

 **1 Year Later**

For the past few weeks, Charles zi Britania, 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, had been encountering a emotion of which he had had little experience with in the latest years of his life, that of the feeling of pride. In the last two decades as ruler of the world's largest and most powerful empire, Charles had abandoned virtually any hope that one of his descendants may prove worthy of inheriting the throne, the vast majority of both his wives and children resulting in generally bitter, if not total, failures. True, some had stood out from the mass, including Marianne, Cornelia, and most notably Schneizel, whom, despite the boy's snake like demeanor, had shown rather promising potential. And yet, despite his recognition of these rare and few outliers, none seemed to come close in comparison with his latest son, Lelouch vi Britania, 11th Prince of the Empire and 17th in line for the Imperial Throne.

The boy was, in rather blunt terms, a genius. But such a word was far too weak to accurately described the raven haired toddler. He was a prodigy, better yet, a miracle of nature. The amount of intellect displayed by the boy was one he could not have, even at his most wishful of times, possibly imagined.

Aged but a mere five months, Lelouch had learned to walk in the most dignified of fashions, as if he had been trained from birth in the ways of nobility. At eleven months, the boy had learned to speak and, within but a few days, and gone from his first word to completely fluent speech, as if it was but a second nature. Even more impressive was the toddler's insatiable desire for information, having ransacked the imperial archives after having browsed through the entirety of the Aries Villa's private library, his mother having only been alerted of the fact that her child was reading college level works after a formal complaint from the archivist, whom had become anxious over the disappearance of a variety of volumes from his shelves.

Having learned of her child's apparently sensational mind, Marianne had requested him if she could allow Lelouch to begin his private schooling as soon as possible, a wish he granted without a second thought. To both his and Marianne's surprise, Lelouch had been found apparently skipping his afternoon classes upon the very first day, bringing him the considerable ire of his tutors. It was not his blatant disregard towards his education that elicited surprise from the duo, but rather the events that had followed.

* * *

"Now Lelouch, you realize that this is of great importance, don't you? You possess a mind like nothing I, nor any of the royal family, have ever even heard of, let alone possessed. Why then are you attempting to bypass your education? Do you not care?" Marianne had been berating her child for the past half - hour, somewhat ticked off that she had to treat the boy as nothing but a child, ironic considering his age, despite the phenomenal mind he seemed to possess.

"Mother, you do realize those persons you reference as 'tutors' have nothing to teach me that could possibly ever come to any…" Lelouch's rant was quickly cut off as his mother scolded the boy once again.

"Tut, tut, tut. No child of mine, especially with the natural abilities such as yours, is going to skip school as long as I remain."

Dejected and seemingly chastened, Lelouch had given arguing with his mother, Marianne having then picked him up and carried him to his first official session of the day, history.

However, it was not long before Cornelia had dragged an angered Lelouch back before Marianne, having found him, once again, lounging comfortable within the family gardens.

The sight of her son in her captain of the guards' figurative chains, Marianne had become rather annoyed with her son, her earlier intervention having clearly lacked in terms of effects. Herself now dragging an indigent Lelouch, Cornelia closely at her heel, the 5th Empress and Consort of the Holy Britannian Empire addressed the boy's tutors, having convened them in one of the villa's many living rooms.

"It seems your charge has escaped yet again. Now I realize he is a prince of the empire and my son but that does not give him an excuse to simply neglect the education I and his father have decided to provide him. If he causes any more trouble you are to report directly to me and I will handle the situation as I see appropriate. Is that clear?" A both commanding and forceful edge having seeped itself into the woman's tone, with a hint of annoyance making itself hear as well within the declaration.

Of all the reactions Marianne had come to expect from the brief meeting however, the one received was not one of them. She had envisioned the tutors' becoming anywhere from anxious to relieved, either due to the shame of letting a mere toddler, one whose size made his run slower than most adult's leisurely walk, to escape their attention and sneak away or his usage of princely authority to force them into obedience, something he had caught onto rather rapidly she noticed. Instead, Marianne became intrigued when the faces in front of her displayed embarrassment.

"Empress Marianne…" A male tutor began. "Your son…How do I put it…Did not, um, 'escape' as you and the captain believe."

"What do you mean he didn't escape?" She asked. "Cornelia here clearly found him reading in the villa's gardens, so please elaborate on your explanation."

An aged female tutor now faced the confused duo of women, now turned interrogators, stating "His highness was allowed to leave at our discretion, he did not leave his courses behind without permission as you perceive."

"But Lelouch barely spent the better part of four hours in class before the captain discovered him, and the customary lunch break had yet to pass for at least another hour. What convinced you to let him leave so early?" It was clear at this point that Marianne's earlier annoyance was transforming into earnest curiosity, her desire to understand the tutors' actions only growing by the minute.

Once again, the elderly woman answered the inquisitor, explaining to her how, "Upon his highnesses' earlier return, he demanded us to present him with the curriculum's final examination papers, not for his designated grade level but for that of graduating students." The woman paused, letting the implication sink in, before continuing, "Naturally, being a prince of the empire, we carried out his request and displayed before him the five graduation examinations of language, history, mathematics, science and philosophy, at which point he began working through each one. Around an hour and a half later, the prince declared that he had finished all of the exams before him and handed them to us for assessment. To our, in all honesty, greatest shock, none of his papers scored lower than the 90th percentile. Believing, and forgive us for even thinking of such a possibility, that his highness had somehow cheated, we each presented him with completely different versions of the exams, asking him to redo them once more, this time under our intense and watchful gaze. In a similar fashion to the first time, the prince completed his examination in little - over an hour, at which time we, once again, proceeded to evaluate them. To our surprise, each and every one of the works came back with an even greater score, the lowest of them reaching the 95th percentile this time around. Empress Marianne, your child has officially completed his education as of 5 p.m. this afternoon."

A tense silence hung in the air, disbelief rife throughout both Marianne's and Cornelia's minds as they registered the woman's long winded explanation. After several moments, both royals looked down upon Lelouch's small figure, only to see an almost infuriating degree of smugness upon the boy's face, an unmistakable smirk plastered across his lips.

While both knew Lelouch had proven to be unimaginably intelligent, the very fact that he, a toddler in every physical sense of the word, at the age of 1, had not only completed, but also passed, the graduate level examinations, with flying colors no less, simply left them in a state of awe.

"Now mother," the young boy said, "Would it inconvenience you to let me return to the gardens? I was in the middle of a rather intriguing novel before all of this unnecessary commotion and would desire to pick up where I left off. Is this a problem?" Lelouch's tone of voice was almost condescending in nature and held no small amount of amusement at his captor's predicament, extracting the most of the situation to his deleted benefit.

"Um…Yes of course dear. Now run along now, I'll see you later at dinner tonight."

And with a quick hug and a word of thanks, Lelouch sauntered away back to his previous position of comfort, his destination a large orange tree whose shade he could use to protect himself from the afternoon sun.

* * *

Upon hearing the story from Marianne during the Imperial Family's weekly evening gathering, Charles curiosity and pride in his latest son had, to his pleasure in fact, quite frankly peaked, yet another fact that did not fail to disappoint. Yet Lelouch's staggering intellect was not the only detail which drew the Emperor's attention, it was also the prince's apparent attitude.

Lelouch was, in all appearance, an extremely cold and distant child. The toddler was paranoid in every sense of the word, always wary of his interactions with others, whether they be members of the royal family, nobles, military personnel and even commoners. Those few whom had attempted to engage the boy in conversation often met both icy and dismissive responses, their attempts often facing rapidly apart. It was only a select few individuals whom had the privilege of eliciting emotion some form of positive emotion from the boy, those few including his mother, Clovis, Cornelia and a very young Euphemia, his younger but by a few weeks. But even more intriguing of the boy was his absolutely ferocious defensive streak, sending withering glares and monstrously brutal worded assaults towards anyone who dared strike at those he cared for.

In one particular event, during Cornelia's graduation celebration from the military academy no less, the boy had , almost savagely, bent a noble's pride and standing merely through the power of words. The Earl of Nashville, a rather prideful individual, had made some derisive comment upon women in the military. Having been passing by the ballroom floor at the time of the statement, Lelouch had taken great offense considering both his mother's and half - sister's involvement within military affairs. It was not long before the toddler had publicly threatened the man with the possibility of life - imprisonment under the pretense of Lèse - Majesté, quickly silencing him and forcing him to recant his previous statement. Needless to say, whatever political support the Earl had quickly evaporated following the his humiliation.

And so, it was these traits that brought Charles a deeply ingrained feeling of pride. After countless wives and children, finally one had shown true promise, not only meeting his expectations, but surpassing them as well. He was, for lack of a better word, pleased, impressed more - so.

However, despite the positive outlook he could not overlook over Lelouch's development, both Charles and Marianne had begun to experience feelings of worry over there son's inhumane rate of development. With his frightening intellect, Lelouch could truly endanger the duo's plans in initiating Ragnarök should he ever learn of its existence and become opposed to it, not to mention the obvious ire of V.V. towards the boy, believing him to be 'unworthy' of Charles attention, a feeling elevated by the very fact of him being Marianne's child, a detail which angered the immortal to no end.

But of everything which garnered both Emperor and Empresses' concern was the seemingly friendly, if not almost intimate, relationship between Lelouch and C.C. While it had been apparent that the green haired immortal had shown interest in the child since his birth, the sheer number of encounters in which Lelouch and C.C. seemed to find themselves in, often in semi - secluded parts of the villa, had gradually instigated a sense of suspicion upon the witch by her 'allies'.

"Charles?" Marianne asked, her tone an intermix of intrigue and worry.

"What is it dear?" Charles responded in his typically gruff, yet somewhat soften, voice.

"Have you noticed how C.C. has been interacting with Lelouch recently? The way they've been meeting and relating to each other is starting to worry me. Do you think, perhaps, that she's offered him a contract?"

Charles pondered the question for several moments, carefully thinking over the details of his beloved's question. After several moments of quiet reflection, he answered, "While I do agree the girl's fascination to the boy is both rather unnatural and, dare I say, friendly, I don't believe it is anything we should concern ourselves with. After all, should she have gone through with offering our son a contract, I have no doubt my brother would have already informed us."

"He might have informed you maybe, but I highly doubt he would have done so for my sake. That brother of yours seemed to loathe my very being and I am honestly worried of what he might do to Lelouch. The very mentioning of his name seems to make him want to cringe in frustration."

Yet again an award silence hung over the two, observing the green and raven haired beings interacting with each other under one of the villa's many trees. C.C. could be seen eating one of her pizzas, much to Lelouch's apparent discomfort, the younger of the two conversing with her while holding a copy of "War and Peace" in his hand, a gift from Schneizel he had told them.

When Charles responded, his voice trace of apprehension, words carefully chosen as he voice his response. "I do not believe my brother will make a move against the boy or you for the time being, he is too focused on making sure I am not displeased with him and achieving our dream to take action on his displeasure. As for C.C. we can always increase our surveillance on her, but for now she should pose no threat, as long as her ultimate wish is accomplished. The only thing we must be wary of is that son of ours now however. I expect a great many things from him but we must be wary of what course of action he may take should he be "rubbed the wrong way"."

"As smart as you are Charlie, I cannot hide my displeasure when you talk of Lelouch as nothing more than another pawn of yours. He has, after all, taken on the best of both our qualities. He is only a year old and he already dwarfs most of your other children. Even Schnitzel seems apprehensive of him; have you ever seen the two interact with one another? Its as if they are both preparing to be backstabbed at any moment."

Charles failed to comment on the woman's latest comments, quietly reflecting on the possible implications. Whatever may come, however, he would be ready. In the end, no matter the consequences, only Ragnarök mattered. While he had genuine respect for Lelouch and love towards Marianne, their deaths would be remedied once the Collective Unconscious of humanity was destroyed, permanently merging the should of both the living and the dead, ending the lies and deceit strife throughout the world.

It was at that moment that Marianne brought his attention back towards herself, gaining it through a quick jab to his left arm, seeing as how she was standing at his side. She then directed his gaze towards an approaching C.C., the witch holding in the right hand a small white card, with golden leaf decorating its edge. What caught the Emperor's attention, however, was the almost unnoticeable blush that seemed to make its presence felt upon the green haired immortal's checks, a detail that caught his full attention. Neither he no Marianne had ever seen the woman express any form of emotion other than annoyance on her indifferent facade, yet here a genuine expression of happiness seemed to grace her eternal youthful features. Such attention to detail was not lost upon Marianne either, whom noticed herself an ever minor upward curl of her contractor's lips, as well as…what seemed like, dare she think, tears?

'What has happened to make her act in such a way?' Marianne thought to herself.

"What is that in your hand C.C.?" Mariannes inquired.

C.C. remained frozen for a time, quickly schooling her features into her casually uncaring facade, before answering. "It's a gift from your son." She stated, her tone flat but with a trace of happiness.

"Oh?" Marianne said, attempting to dig deeper into the matter at hand, "Whatever for?"

"He…he said that, considering he did not know my birthday, that he might as well present me his gift now…" C.C. voice was now wavering ever so slightly. Then, before her contractee could make a retort, the immortal briskly walked away, finding refuge within the Aries Villa's walls, a single tear of joy rolling down her cheek.

"I dare say Marianne, whatever our boy has done, he is very unique…" Charles stated, interest blatantly apparent in his voice. His son's ability to move C.C. to tears was something that truly grasped his attention. "I think, as we conversed upon earlier, that it may be wise to watch the two more closely from now on."

"I agree. My oh my our boy is growing fast, already wooing women to his will." A playful tease worming its way into the otherwise serious statement of conformation to her husbands desire.

And with that, both Charles zi Britania and Empress Marianne vi Britania parted ways, each in the direction of their respective destinations. Truly their son was special.


	3. Chapter III - Lelouch vi Britannia

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

* * *

 **Key:**

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

" " - Emphasis / Radio Communication

" " - Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter III: Lelouch vi Britannia**_

 _ **December 5th, Year 2008 A.T.B.**_

Foundation Day. Ever since the rise of the 98th Emperor, it has been customary for those of the royal family, either through birth or by marriage, to enter the public spotlight upon the day of their birth. For those married, this day marks their introduction into the cesspool that was court politics, with only but a few months reprieve before falling victim to such a trap. For those born, such a ceremony is typically withheld until the child's reaching of the ripe age of 8, their level of maturity and control being deemed sufficient for their official entry into the viper's den. The ceremony's true purpose however, contrary to its formal definition, was a much more sinister one: Power.

Hidden behind the false smiles and gracious bows of both nobles and royalty, it was the hidden search for power that dominated such occasions, an event designed to present those entering the grand arena of plotting and scheming which defined courtly life. It was upon such days that men and women, princes and princesses, hires and nobles, made their stand to face the beast that was the court. A realm where, no matter where one's face pointed towards, it was almost guaranteed that someone was behind them, knife at the ready, waiting to strike. Once the entrance of the throne room had been passed, he who entered would never be safe. Their was no loyalty, there were no allies. The supreme truth of the land was simple: Pragmatism is king, friends are but a convenience.

Lelouch remembered his first Day of Foundation. It had been, for what he could remember, a day of dread. Mature for his age he might have been, yet the venomous eyes and half - whispered insults of the attending audience had greatly unnerved him, that small boy, as he walked down the grand carpet of the Imperial Palace's throne room, footsteps echoing in the engulfing silence. The 'commoner prince' the had spat, disgust and contempt dripping from their mouths, their hatred evident as they had gazed upon his figure. The situation alone had been unsettling on its own, had his father's gaze not met his own. The man's eyes had been cold and dismissive, as if he'd been starring at some form of animal that had, by luck or misfortune, found its way into the very seat of power. His only comfort throughout the terrible experience had been the glowing smile of his mother, standing tall and proud, at the Emperor's side, the other wives seated in the background, glaring their hatred at his mother's back. He couldn't have known if his past self could have survived the event had she not been there.

Yet such things were but a memory now, a time lost in the years since then, a past of war, struggle and survival having ensued, times of far greater trouble that had dwarfed, if not entirely crushed, the emotions of that day. Ironic really, considering how he was about to go through the entire experience for the second time. Not only that, but he would relish it, the perfect opportunity to display his power, his superiority, over the vultures and parasites whom would dare to look upon him.

It had been difficult, these past 8 years, to adjust to a life he thought he'd left behind so long ago. The carefree days of the Aries Villa, the days of rest by his sister's side, Euphemia, Nunnally or otherwise. Most interestingly were the games of chess he would play against his older brothers, Clovis and Schneizel, his years of prowess coming into play. The younger of his opponents had been baffled upon inviting him to his first game, having expected an easy victory over Lady Marianne's son. So shocked, in fact, was he at his crushing defeat that the painter had simply gawked at the board, not quite believing what he was seeing before his very eyes. It hadn't taken very long, in fact, for Lelouch's mastery of the game had spread amongst both the imperial family and higher echelon's of nobility, the vast majority of Britannia's persons of power forming a tight - knit community over the game.

One after another, challenger upon challenger called, their kings dethroned at the hands of black pawns, knights or bishops, thought more commonly the queen, her power radiating upon white's toppling. It was not long before Lelouch had, yet again, come face to fave with Schneizel, the undisputed master of the game, unbeaten for what made now over a decade. The White King was master of all, they'd said.

It had been, somewhat to his chagrin, that their game had ended in a draw. The match had been made a public event, at the behest of the Emperor apparently, with a select group of renowned players as the audience. The utterly unexpected outcome, much to the shock of those observing, had done much to perturb those who'd heard of the occasion, granting the young prince an aura of both power and elegance, ever minute as it may have been. Schneizel himself, master of the poker - face he'd always been, had temporarily paused at Lelouch's final move, the Black King's advance, one which had sealed the game's end. Nonetheless, he congratulated his sibling, stating how, "He was looking forward to another game.", a genuine smile plastered across his features.

Yet, no matter his almost legendary status in such realm, in remained all too true that he, Lelouch vi Britannia, 11th Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, was still seen as nothing but a dog in the court's eyes, corrupted offspring birthed by nothing more than an unworthy whore who'd, somehow, caught their glorious leader's attention. They would come to realize, all too late, how terribly wrong they would be.

As he stood upon the Imperial Palace's grand marble stairway, massive oaken gates at the close, a single thought came to his mind.

'Let the games begin…'

* * *

Charles sat upon his throne, eyes glancing over the throne room's audience of the day. It was his son Lelouch's Day of Founding, his time of formal introduction and entry into the lion's den of the political world. He knew, far better than anyone, that he boy would receive no mercy, no matter how smart he'd proven. Neither pride nor childhood innocence would stand there ground upon this day, only with power could Marianne's child hope to succeed.

Of all of his children, young and old, it had been Lelouch that had impressed him the most. From his earliest days, the boy prince had proven intelligence, charismatic, manipulative and, above all determined. There had been nothing, be it rules or regulations, enemies or obstacles, that had been able to impede his son's progress. Those beliefs he had so quickly squashed upon the day of his birth, that of hope and optimism in the infant huddle against his beloved's chest, had made themselves heard, ringing in his head as his son garnered victory after victory, never failing to disappoint…except in one particular arena: Ruthlessness.

For all of Lelouch's gains and talents, the one crucial towards that of power and control, that which drove a man to reach his ends, had never once presented themselves within the boys character, whether in public or private. It was, to the Emperor's dismay, the greatest of disappointments. Here lied the greatest of his heirs, born into this world by the most capable of his wives, and yet no shred of ambition within him. It was, with even greater irony, that the emperor actually felt, dare he say, sadness, at such a fact. It was not disappointment, for that such a thing had yet to emerge from the boy. It was a feeling of dejection born within his own mind that he observed the most capable candidate for the throne, despite his age and inexperience, would always lack that which was all but necessary to rule.

'And he was so very close as well.' He inwardly sighed. 'My hopes will have to rest in either Cornelia or Schneizel then, at least those two might dispose of what it takes to be king.'

A slight pressure to his shoulder, courtesy from a standing Marianne at his side, brought Charles out of his musings.

"It's time dear." She stated in all simplicity, a sad smile on her face. No doubt, she too, had come to the conclusion he'd made.

Rising from his throne and motioning his hand to the side, the crowd fell silent. The time had come, their prey would soon arrive.

A single word rang out in the now silenced chamber, echoing across the stone walls of the palace. "ENTER!" He bellowed. And then the gates opened.

* * *

Standing towards the upper right side of the throne - room, an 18 years old Cornelia, dressed in full military regalia, leaf - shaped pins upon her shoulders noting the rank of Major, eyed the massive oaken doors of Pendragon's throne room. As mandated by Imperial Law, both she had the other members of the imperial family, at least those whom had come of age, as well as the upper echelon's of the nobility, had come in order to attend the Day of Foundation for the most recent prince, Lelouch vi Britannia. While courtly politics were one of her most hated of activities, her dislike for the both generally incapable and egotistical nobles being rather common knowledge, she could not bring herself to hate this day. The eldest child of her idol, Lady Marianne, was making his official debut.

The 3rd Princess had personally met the young boy on a number of occasions, most often as the his mother's head of security though also as Euphie's elder sister, and was deeply marked by both his intelligence and demeanor. At only the age of 6, the raven haired boy had seem mature beyond his years, his piercing violet eyes hinting at an unfathomable amount of knowledge. Although she had watched him very closely during his first few playdates with her sister, Cornelia could not deny that she had taken a liking to him. He would always insure her safety first, and was vehemently defensive to her person, lashing out at anyone, even his very own mother in fact, should they seem to harbor ill intent to her person. So extreme was this nature that it was only surpassed when his sister Nunnally was around, at which time it was as if an enraged beast would rise up from the depths of the Black Prince's soul. It was rather unnerving really, though as long as he protected what she considered dearest to her in the world, she did not mind. It was, in her eyes, his most valued quality.

There was, however, something that had peaked her attention a her half - siblings attitude around Euphemia. Whenever he would appear in the pinkest's presence, either deliberately or by accident, it always seemed as if he was surrounded by a feeling of remorse, even guilt, as impossible as it seemed. For what reason she did not known, but her worries had made themselves heard to Lelouch's mother. Quite discouraging was the Empress' reply, the older woman's reply having been, "I think your just worrying yourself Nelly, Lulu has shown nothing but the utmost of love and care for that girl. He even accepts to climb with her in the bathtub whenever she needs her hair washed. I can't being to explain how cute they looked together, would you like to see the pictures?"

Needless to say the photographs had elicited a rather interstice response from the violet haired officer, a mixture of both hilarity and misplaced outrage. The pictures Marianne had shown her showed two naked figures, one girl and one boy, standing in a pristine white bathtub, soapy water reaching up to their shoulders. Euphemia's face, unmistakable due to the blob of pic her attached to her head, radiated happiness and amusement. On the other hand, Lelouch's expression couldn't be farther from his companions. His face was red as a tomato, so dark compared to his usually pale texture that Cornelia wondered if any more blood could have made itself known. He looked rather uncomfortable, to say the least, and couldn't prevent himself from wincing at his sister's attempts to make herself comfortable upon his small frame, chest and shoulders acting as makeshift pillows. Too make matters worse, the following images preserved facial expressions of varying degrees of shock, embarrassment and outrage, so much so that the last of them showed him face down upon the marble tiles, his but sticking into the cool air and legs still dangling in the bath water. Marianne's eavesdropping had not gone unnoticed, it would seem.

Needless to say Cornelia had a rather long and serious discussion with the boy following the little diaporama, the prince having been warned on what would happen to him should any harm come to Euphemia, thought she personally doubted it. Still, it was better safe then sorry.

And so, there she stood, waiting for his arrival, curious at how he would handle the situation. He would, most likely, be at least somewhat nervous, she herself and countless other's before her, save maybe Schneizel, though known could have none with that poker - face of his, having been through the very same ceremony.

And then the doors ground open.

* * *

" **Announcing Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, 11th Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire and 17th in line for the Imperial Throne!"** An announcer's voice rang out, a small figure making its way within the immense room.

Marianne eyed her son carefully as he deliberately made his way towards the front of the throne room, his pace both deliberate and measure, though surprisingly slow, as if it was he, and not the audience, that was silently judging those present. What caught her attention, however, was his choice of wardrobe. A small white cravat around his neck, her son's figure was shrouded by an overly elaborate pitch black cape, gold highlights surrounding its form, its collar forming a sort of protective shroud around his visage. Underneath the bellowing wave of silk, the Empress observed a deep purple suit, gold highlights as well, framing her son's elegant and slim physique, giving him an all around more imposing appearance, despite his still relatively short stature. But what truly caused her attention to fix upon her soon was his facial expression, his smile. It was chilling, both calculating and feral in its nature, as if he was amused by the entire situation.

'He most certainly has a flair for the dramatic.' The around mother told herself.

And then he stopped.

* * *

'Perfect.' Lelouch thought. The entire process was going as he had planned, from the wardrobe to his gait and, as of now, the hidden comments of those observing him. His wardrobe was heavily inspired by that of his past Zero suit, minus the helmet and a slight change in color. Hidden within the depths of his cape lied a standard Britannian Officer's pistol, its size and shape ensuring it could be quickly retrieved yet remain concealed until needed. And such a time had come.

"Who is that boy?" A court lady whispered to a man standing at her side.

"It's that whore's commoner son, as if he should be here." The man replied, disgust and jealousy completely apparent form his statement.

Slowly turning to face the man, a lower aristocrat he believed, considering the lack of any apparent higher markings, such as the infamous sealed rings common among Dukes and Earls, Lelouch gazed into the adult's eyes, shooting him glare that could pierce his very soul.

In a seemingly innocent fashion, Lelouch calmly addressed the man, in a way a curious child would, "You there, kind sir, what do you think of me?" He asked in a sickly - sweet voice, as if nothing in the world was wrong.

The breach in the events usually decorum unnerved the man, caught off guard and slurring his response, "Whatever do you mean your highness?", though there was an edge to his voice, that of loathing and anger.

Still looking into his opponents eyes, Lelouch repeated himself in the same tone as before, "I asked what do you think of me, I'm just curious that's all."

The noble stiffened slightly, measuring his response before replying in a cautious nature, "It's not my place to judge you your highness, you stand above me according to our empire's laws."

The man's blood ran cold as Lelouch's so far innocent smile became positively demonic, malice causing several of those nearby to unconsciously take a step backwards, as if preparing to run from a predator.

" _Oh really?_ " Lelouch asked in a purely rhetorical fashion, his voice acidic and slightly entered, allowing all those to hear, "Then would you care to explain _this_?"

Under his cape, Lelouch pressed the playback button of a recording device he'd been holding in secret under his robes, waiting for the perfectly incriminating comment to use for his little display. A recorded voice, that of his prey's to be exact, rang out throughout the court room.

" **It's that whore's commoner son, as if he should be here."**

The lower noble was now sweating bullets, his act of defiance caught on tape an exposed to the world. It mattered not that the majority of his 'colleagues' agreed with his statement, thought none would dare voice such opinions out in the open, much less in the emperor's presence, though such worries were naught to the troubles the raven haired figure was about to bring down upon him.

"It would appear that you do not agree with my heritage, a shame really." Lelouch drawled, the smirk upon his lips having not left. "I seem to remember a certain law while reading Britannia's oldest law book from the Imperial Archives, fascinating really. I think it was named something like 'Lèse Majesté', was it." His voice had become somewhat reflective, though there were undeniable hints of amusement hidden beneath the current tone.

"And what was it they said, let me remember." A short pause before the climax. "Ahhhh!" Lelouch stated, as if he'd found the answer he was searching for, snapping his fingers for extra effect.

Then, spinning around from his temporary revery in order to face down the noble once more, the boy prince's voice turned into pure ice, devoid of emotion or human sentiment, stating, "The punishment is death."

In a flash, those nearby observe boy's hand dip beneath his cape, only to retrieve a small standard issue firearm. The barrel was pointed upon the man forehead. For a fraction of a second the entire room held its breath, the silence deafening to all of those present. The a small click. The room echoed at the sound of a single shot of gunfire, a brief flash of light adding to the effect. Soon, the clicking of a spent cartridge ringed upon the white marble tiling of the floor, spinning for a moment or two. It wasn't long before a dull thud followed suite, testimony to the ex - nobles body slamming into the ground, face first, a bullet to the temple.

* * *

Silence reigned through the throne room as those present realized what had just occurred. An 8 year old boy, son of Empress Marianne, had just shot and killed one of those in attendance, invoking his rights of royalty under the pretense of an archaic law, complexity legal in its basis due to lack of oversight. The moment was sobering, as all those who mere moments ago had been voicing the dead man's opinions promptly cut themselves off, wary for their own lives.

'Now this is interesting.' Charles thought, having never expected, nor ever witness, such an occurrence during his reign as emperor. 'I may have misjudged the boy yet again.' An almost imperceivable smirk forming upon the outer reaches of his lips, internally pleased.

Eyeing the figure that was his son, he noticed the boy was looking down upon his boots, a frown upon his face.

"I'm going to have to have these cleaned before I return to the villa now, wouldn't want to be tracking blood upon the floor…" Lelouch muttered under his breath, though loud enough for those present to hear. It was clearly a message, dismissing the nobles around him as nothing but worthless beings while in his presence.

Resuming his previous advanced towards the throne, though now at a slightly faster rate, Lelouch bowed before his feet, his voice strong and unwavering, as if nothing had just occurred. "Hail your Majesty, I am Lelouch vi Britannia, son of Marianne vi Britannia, Prince of the Empire. I have come before you today in order to begin my service towards the empire."

Charles gazed down upon the kneeling form of Marianne son, before speaking, "I recognize you as part of this court. You may rise my son." The tone used was abjectly neutral, somewhat different from its usually dismissive nature. "While your presence here was mandated, I do not condone the killing of one of my followers, would you care to explain your actions?" He questioned, curious of his son's answer.

"He committed treason upon the crown by insulting the myself, and therefore my blood, a blood shared in common with both my mother, the Empress, and yourself you Majesty. It is, in effect, a direct insult upon your person, one that could not be tolerated should our system become weak." Was the boy's response, calm and surgically logical, with no detectable flaw hidden in the well spoken words.

'Interesting, but how shall you respond to this?' Charles mused.

"And how does the killing of one of the empire's strongest nobles not weaken our nation?" The Emperor demanded, his tone remaining its previous flat composure, thought a note of interest could be detected by those paying close enough attention."

His son merely gazed up into his eyes, unflinching as he countermanded the inquiry, "Strong, you say? How can you claim such a parasite be a symbol of strength when nothing but a mere child put an end to his life? If such if the definition of strength that I truly fear for this country's future. We cannot tolerate the inefficiency and unreliability of such person's in such powerful positions of our government."

The argument was both as sound as it was measured, both preventing its refutal as well as shooting carefully veiled insults at those present within the room, judging their capacities as both lacking and unintelligent. The perfect answer. The emperor wondered if he had not planned for the ongoing discussion to the very last detail.

'He isn't wrong.' Came to mind, his silent agreement with his son remaining unvoiced.

"You are not wrong in your assessment. The strong shall devour the weak, and if this weakling could not defend himself from you that I have no doubt in the validity of your statement. You have my blessing son. Dismissed."

The Emperor's final words acted as efficiently as a metaphorical bomb ever could within the confines of the throne room. Never had the man whom ruled a third of the world ever silly hand out his blessing as a result of a single act, much less so to a mere _child_ who had only just entered the political arena. This, couple with what could not be mistaken for anything but a sense of approval within his Majesty's tone left those still alive completely speechless and frozen, the entirety of the situation having dumbfounding implications.

Having regained their senses, all eyes tracked the now leaving form of Lelouch vi Britannia, his target being the rooms oaken doors. At the moment of his approach of the dead body, a small pool of blood having formed under his head, The boy deliberately appeared disgusted at the form, stepping above it as if over a piece of trash, though not before having wiped off the dried blood stuck to his right boot with the nobles cape, adding insult to injury. It was only a minute later after the gates shut, a thunderous laughter echoing through the hall as the Emperor roared in amusement at the latest proceedings.

* * *

Schneizel el Britannia was not a man whom could easily be faced, his outward expression always maintaining a semblance of either warm charm of unthreatening neutrality, never displeasure nor annoyance. The events of which had just occurred before him, however, had managed to chip away at what he had believed to be an unbreakable poker - face, his yes having widened by a fraction as Lelouch left the courtroom. His father's roar of laughter immediately after his younger half - siblings departure only served to deepen his confusion. Today;s event had been a series of surprises one after the other, and each of greater impact than the last.

The voice of his younger half - sibling, Cornelia, next to him brought the White King out of his thinking, registering, "To think that Le…Lelouch of all people could do that. What in God's name just happened?" The 3rd Princess' voice was one of bewilderment ad of confusion, something holy appropriate considering the situation.

"I cannot honestly say." Schneizel began, "I had expected a many variety of things that could have occurred today, but it would be deceitful of me to tell you I had envisioned something as that we have just bearer witness." His tone was clam and reflective, eyes scrunched up as he pondered the details of the event. Going over the evidence, a light flashed within his mind, his voice lowered as he continued.

"This must have been all one big performance to him." He stated.

"What?!" Was Cornelia's hushed response, alarmed at her brother's conclusion, "What could possibly make you believe such a ridiculous explanation."

Calmly regarding her with schooled features, the tall blonde began to elaborate upon his explanation, "Think about what you've just witness Cornelia. We both know that Foundation Day's sure purpose is a display of power, one which may determined the fate of whoever makes their presence known. The events we have seen coincide perfectly with that hidden agenda. Why else would leech kill a noble in cold blood, justification in mind and evidence in hand, not to mention the tools necessary for its implementation? Not only this, but his entire interrogation of the noble, combined with his movements, posture and voice, all deliberately done to intimidate and ridicule that which he choose as him unwitting victim? And, to end it all, his seemingly obvious answers to our father's questions, hinting no emotion whatsoever? Not to mention his interesting choice of wardrobe I might add. It was all a performance, one designed to project an aura of both confidence and danger upon his person, tools of which he may build into a reputation, and, in the end, power. For what I can only guess, he so far having shown no sign of ambition, however I would remain wary from this point on. I will not lie too you, his taking of a man's life, despite his protective instincts, is not a task you can simply accomplish upon the first time and walk away unaffected. He is, in my eyes, a dangerous wildcard for the time being. Only time will tell what he shall become."

'And if he will choose to be either my ally or my enemy.' He thought silently.

Her brother's long winded explanation, Cornelia slowly digested his words, separating them into more easily comprehensible packets of information.

'I'll have to be more careful around Euphie from now on.' Was her first reaction, automatic in its nature to the violet haired Major.

It was a third voice, one of a 15 year old Clovis, that brought what thought had all been on their minds but to this point unspoken, his voice slightly trembling in fright at his younger half - siblings display. "Was that really our Lelouch?"

There was no immediate answer as the room began to clear out, the Emperor's laugh having subsided long ago and his leaving of the throne brining the court session to an end.

* * *

In the privacy of their quarters, Charles, Marianne and a short blonde boy stood near a fire, the cool temperatures of the December weather warded off by the nearby heat.

"There is something about that child of your brother that is making me uncomfortable. His past rate of development is simply too great to be normal, no matter his intellect. I'd also like to mention his attitude in court today, something which neither I nor you would deny is completely unnatural for him. His psychiatrists and examiners have all agreed that he was complexity healthy and that his attitude was correspondent to that of a boy his age, if not slightly more matured." V.V.'s miniature rant had rather blatant hints of annoyance, most likely out of his borther's seeming affliction towards the child. It didn't help that this child, of all his brother had, _had_ to be that of the woman who was gradually taking him away from him.

'If things continue at this rate he might abandon our promise, that is something which I cannot allow.' He thought.

"While I do agree that the boy has shown unnatural prodigious faculties," the immortal boy's younger brother began, "I do not believe his actions today were unwarranted. He is known, after all, for being rather obsessed towards those few he is attached to, even more so towards those he loves. Marianne can attest to that."

The mentioning of the woman only seemed to irk V.V. even more, his tone taking on a new sense of annoyance.

"Have you not been listening to anything I have said, clearly something has been affecting him, as I doubt the child would have acted the way he did had he been his normal self. What of the witch, is she the reason for this change?" He asked, suspicions growing.

It was Marianne who answered her brother - in - law's inquiry, stating, "C.C.'s interactions with Lelouch have greatly diminished over the years. We noticed their early relationship and grew somewhat worried, so we have done our best to separate the two. However she does seem to have a rather interesting relationship with him and they seem to see each other every so often, despite our best efforts. They've grown as close as C.C. is capable off I'm afraid, considering her attitude. I am a friend after all."

V.V. merely scoffed at the remark, retorting, "C.C. does not see you as friend, only as an associate. You are merely a means to an end, nothing more. My reason for asking about her is that she may have formed a contract with the boy, despite there being no evidence. Their attitudes towards one another are suspicious, and he may have grown tried of waiting for you Geass to develop Marianne, you have yet to use it, let alone know what it does."

The tension within the Emperor's study was palpable at best, his wife and sibling starring into each other's eyes as a silent conflict raged between them.

Faking a cough, Charles ended the verbal spare, reentering the conversation, "No matter what you believe, Lelouch is hardly a threat at this point. He may have intimidate the nobles for now, however his act has also driven away any potential support. He has no power as of now, and still under my control. At worse, we could always use Marianne and Nunnally to reign him in. In any case, he is a powerful piece on the board that I will make good use of."

V.V. simply looked at his brother, disagreement obvious on his face, a frown upon his lips. "Very well then Charles," He began, tone neutral and empty, "but mark my words, that boy is going to become a problem in the future. If you are not wary than I shall intervene.", and without another word, V.V. left the room, most likely heading off back towards the Geass Directorate's most current location.

Marianne turned upon her husband and said, voice somewhat chiding in its manner, "You know I fully support you dear, however Lelouch is far to special to be just another pawn in your game. I love my child, he is far too similar to us both to simply dispose off as a token toy, and while his loss would be offset once we complete Ragnarök, I would still be none to happy."

Charles simply looked down upon her slightly angered face and replied, "Do not treat dear, I am sure the boy will accomplish a great many things in his time. All we need to ensure is that he does not become a threat, no more, no less. With you at his side I'm certain he shall become a fine heir upon our plans completion."

Visibly relaxing, the 5th Empress of Britannia gave her husband a quick peck on the check, before herself walking out of the study, a car awaiting outside the palace to return her to the Aries Villa, her children waiting eagerly for her return.

* * *

In the confines of a V.T.O.L.'s passenger seat, V.V. pondered his latest encounter with Charles, none too pleased.

"Something will have to be done," He muttered, anger apparent with an undertone of jealousy, "starting with that boy and his mother no less…"


	4. Chapter IV - Prince Dismissed

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter IV: Prince Dismissed**_

 _ **February 5th, Year 2009 A.T.B.**_

Lelouch was anxious. It had been thirty five days since the year's start, and for each hour passed his feelings of unease would grow.

'Mother died this year…' He thought, emotions all too similar to those of nostalgia and depression weaving their way into his psyche as he pondered the now aged memory, one which had grown to define the very struggle he'd endured for the better part of his former life.

In all honesty, he felt unsure of what to do. Should he save her from her fate, ensuring her survival and continued existence within the world, or should he act as if he knew nothing of the approaching tragedy, one that was all but guaranteed to occur, maintaining the status quo of the previous timeline? This singular question had consumed the whole of his being for the past few weeks, his mind, prodigious as it was, unable to come up with a satisfactory response.

He knew that she loved them, her children, as any mother would, and had shown only the most sincere of care towards both his and Nunnally's well beings. He knew that, despite her more ruthless actions, her collaboration with Charles had been aimed towards goals all to similar to his own, a peaceful world. True, the details on how such a world should be varied considerably, such as whether the people would maintain the very thing that made them quintessentially human, their individuality, yet it remained the same objective nonetheless. And while he could not prevent himself from resenting his and Nunnally's abandonments, it felt hypocritical of him to think in such a manner. They had explained to him, upon their rather abnormal familial reunion, how the dead would rejoin the living, logic dictating how, even should he and his sister have died, they would have come back and, eventually, been reunited, so could he truly blame them? After all, wasn't it he whom always preached on how the ends justified the means? And had he not, himself, spilt oceans of blood in pursuit of such ends? In either case, both parties had forced tremendous losses upon others, all in the pursuit of what could only be referenced as altruistic in its nature.

This internal debate raged on within him, rattling his soul to its very core, and yet he knew that he would have to make a decision, preferably sooner rather than later. His actions within this world meant it would be impossible for him to accurately predict the day V.V. would ultimately choose to strike, rendering his decision all the more imperative.

What made the dilemma even more irritating was the fact that his, dare he say, _father_ , had envisioned the concept of Ragnarök all in the purpose of peace, an aspect which only rendered the entire situation even more cumbersome than he'd wished to deal with at such point in time. He hated the man with a passion, but his most recent ordeals as a child, combined with a far more matured mindset then he'd once had, resulted in him growing much closer to the old man than originally desired, and unwanted bond. Whether he would admit it or not, be it to others or himself, both he and the Emperor were very similar indeed.

And so his thoughts continuously looped within his head, past memories and whirlwinds of emotions causing him no small amount of grief.

Even so, assuming he came to the decision to save his mother, another issue immediately came to replace its predecessor. Just how _could_ he save her? Despite his intellect, neither his thoughts nor plans could ever hope to see the light should he remain without the proper resources at his disposal. True, as Prince of the Empire he could wield rather large influence, at least theoretically, though he doubted such actions could be conducted by what his peers perceived as nothing more than an intelligent and mature child, with emphasis the latter part of his description, _child_. It was almost maddening really, the lack of authority. He truly did miss his days as Zero, a time where he held virtually absolute power and, at least what he'd originally believed, loyalty, his followers acquiescing to his every whim. He need only say the word.

"If only I had my Geass." He muttered, his slim figure lying prone upon his bed, thin veils of moonlight streaming into his room at Aries as he lay thinking. "It would truly be of great value right now."

However, and despite such setbacks, Lelouch remained calm. Since his Day of Foundation but a few months prior, an event that had remained the talk of the court for quite a while he might add, Lelouch had been able to, in fact, acquire a modicum of assets. He'd started off small, of course, using his meager winnings and bets against noblemen, combined with his princely allowance, in order to generate himself a limited pool of capital, at which point he immediately began investing within the Britannian stock market. Beginning with the generally less desirable shares and then working his way up the ladder, Lelouch had built himself his own private economic kingdom, owning a median amount of stocks and bonds across various industries and businesses, most notably those primarily involved in arms and weaponry. He could have acquired more, though he deemed it necessary to try and remain under the radar, having cast enough light upon his figure for the time being. His dealings had not gone unnoticed, unfortunately, his mother having approached him when she'd realized that her son's bank statements appeared to have somehow considerably fattened despite her, or Charles', lack of involvement. The ensuing interrogation had, to put things bluntly, not been the most pleasant of experiences.

But Lelouch's grasp for power failed to halt there. Having equipped himself with a now much larger financial basis, he'd then set out to create his very own corporation, the aptly named Lamperouge Armaments Conglomerate, otherwise known as the L.A.C., its focus directed towards the production and development of the military hardware Britannia appeared to love all too much. The company's owner had, rather shockingly, been able to remain anonymous to the public at large, a detail that caused more than a few questions to be raised, though the greater sense of maneuverability the persona allowed him was deemed well worth the sporadic sideways glances. Working from within the shadows, it had only been a matter of patience before Lelouch had snatched up certain key figures from his corporate rivals, the majority being generally underpaid engineers and weapons designers, whom were more than glad to switch camps at the promise of both generous pay and lavish research grants. It wasn't long before the first company headquarters and research divisions had been established, with manufacturing centers nearing completion within the following month.

But of all the tools acquired, of all the means at his disposal, none rivaled the sheer scope, nor professed importance, of the L.A.C.'s private intelligence network. It had proven quite a challenge to create, at first, his connections both limited and few, but sparse amounts of manipulation, combined with a rather uncanny amount of blackmail, had eventually garnered Lelouch several dozens of undercover informants, ranging from disgruntled factory workers, to well placed and, conveniently, corrupt managers, allowing him an impressive, although still limited, amount of data on his enemies' dealings. It was only a matter of time before he would hook the kind of fish he was truly after, an embedded O.S.I. agent.

It was common knowledge, at least among Britannia's higher echelons, that the empire kept a watchful eye upon those both designing and creating its weapons, a precautionary measure meant to prevent the sale of said weapons towards any 'undesirable' parties, meaning anyone affiliated with either the E.U. or Chinese Federation. It was a very sensible sort of action as, in a world divided by three superpowers, any advantage, whether it be economic, technological, or _especially_ militarily, had the potential to unravel the precarious balance of power that existed between the three. Therefore, so as to insure such an event would not come to pass, it had been decided by the powers that be that several undercover agents of the O.S.I. be implanted within the empire's key industries, acting as a sort of guard dog, carefully listening in and watching over the actions of these businesses, monitoring their activities.

The L.A.C., although of still comparatively small stature, had not entirely escaped this government spun web, Lelouch having already discovered, and promptly fired, a multitude of these aforementioned agents, wary of the damage they could incur should his company, or even he, for that matter, be considered a liability by those in power.

The reasons behind such a quest were actually quite simple. If Lelouch was able to turn one of his Majesty's agents, then he had the potential to infiltrate the O.S.I. itself, the prodigal cave of wonders for any and all things intelligence related. Still and more importantly, however, was the fact that only the O.S.I. maintained contact within another elusively secretive order, the Geass Directorate. To infiltrate one would mean access to the other, an endeavor that, should it prove successful, would be one the the greatest boons to him, in as practical as in personal ways.

To his disappointment, however, such a chance had yet to pass, and so he waited, in a patient and apprehensive manner, for the moment of success. Still, the lack of progress worried him, at which time he'd looked into other possibilities. He'd briefly considered using the agents that had been previously exposed within his own company, though quickly decided against it in not much more than an afterthought, the possibility of being double - crossed, or, even worse, spied upon, was deemed to great. His other solutions proved to be just as equally flawed or of too high risk as well and and were, reluctantly, soon forgotten.

And so, Lelouch found himself were he'd began, unable to resolve the impasse that was his mother's fate. Even with his newfound gains, the key to his remedy remained out of reach, having come no closer towards V.V.'s future actions than he was when he'd first started to worry. Money and paranoia could, regrettably, only bring one so far it appeared. The only decision he did have, regardless of either path he chose, was Nunnally's fate. She would be protected, by any means necessary, if but to avoid her crippling and blindness, even if, in the worst came scenario, _he_ would become V.V.'s chosen 'witness'. She had suffered enough already, he believed. Never again.

Now, lying comfortably upon his bed, Lelouch echoed an impressive sigh, his worries finally having taken their toll.

"I'll look into this tomorrow…" He whispered, voice fading as sleep reaped its just reward upon the boyish form, an expression of peace replacing that of concern over his face.

* * *

Whenever Marianne looked towards her eldest child, she was always reminded of the man she had come to love, Charles. It was amazing, really, the similarities between the two, from those piercing violet eyes to the uncanny level of intellect, Lelouch never failed to remind her of her husband, and she loved him for it. Not only this, but the young boy had many times come to remind her of herself as well, his dark raven hair and spindly form, coupled with his unique sense of character, acting as but a few clues to the connection between the two, a detail from which she drew, without shame, a considerable amount of pride. He was, for all intensive purposes, the spitting image of his parents, the perfect child.

True, Marianne loved both of her children deeply, be it her son or daughter Nunnally, though it would be a lie to say she did not prefer one over the other. Nunnally was beautiful, even for her age, yet she seemed to lack the many features which had made Lelouch so special, to her dismay. Both her and Charles had actually grown excited of another child similar to Lelouch, so it had been a minor letdown when Nunnally did not prove to be as prodigious as her older brother, though, in the end, Marianne did not mind and loved her all the same. And, in any case, she couldn't bear to see Lelouch separated from the young princess, the boy pouring his heart and soul into loving the girl.

It was strange at first, at least in the eyes of the royal couple, to see their boy finally express some form of emotion towards someone other then herself, a detail which had actually elicited _jealousy_ from her in fact, ridiculous as it was. Maybe she'd simply grown to attached to the ferocious devotion her son had shown to her, something she'd done her best to return in kind and honestly believed to have achieved as well. But now the prince had another light in his life, shinning brightly wherever she went, her elder sibling bering to every demand. She was the only one, other than herself at least, to be able to make Lelouch do anything without question, even if it was playing dress - up. And she was happy, for both herself and him.

The only part which drew some form of wanting from her son was his physical stature. True, it was a rather petty desire, considering how he'd come to prove himself, as well as surpass, virtually every aspect both she and Charles could have wanted in her first born, yet, in her defense, it would seem that, having set the bar so high so early, she could only desire more from her boy, as ridiculous or unfair it might be.

So she could only be described as ecstatic when the raven haired youngster had asked her if she could teach him to pilot a knightmare, "just like mother does" he'd said, a request she all but immediately granted, having taken Lelouch's spindly formed into her arms and hugged him tightly, squashing his face between her breast and twirling him around while delightfully laughing, an occasion to remember.

It wasn't long before she'd taken Lelouch to meet her allies, the Ashfords, the very friends who'd first introduced her to the soon to be Emperor, Charles zi Britannia. The meeting had started off well, until a small, girlish figure had appeared alongside Ruben Ashford, blonde hair and deep blue eyes observing her son, before dragging him off to play. It would become common knowledge very soon that, whatever the young heiress had done to the prince, had been emotionally scarring enough for Lelouch to bequeath the girl the noted title of She - Devil, all the while muttering about "those perverted fantasies of hers". The elders had chosen not to dive into the matter any further, Lady Ashfords questioning of the supposed incident having brought a crimson red blush to the prince's face, his eyes widened as he stuttered, "N…N…Nothing!", only to then make a beeline for the nearest rose bush, presumably to calm himself. She could only smile at her son's discomfort, so rare it was to see him express such emotion.

But having eventually gotten past the introductions and sly moments of innocent humor, Marianne had then gotten down too the more serious matters of business, the reason why she had brought Lelouch along with her in the first place: Piloting sessions.

At first Ruben had believed her to be jesting, knowing how, despite Lelouch's already developed series of success, the boy was anything but physical, a trait considered rather essential when piloting the engines of war that were Knightmares. He soon come to realize, however, how serious his surrogate daughter was, Marianne's determination shinning clearly through to the Ashford head. Her insistence had taken a much closer form to a demand from a Britannian Empress then a friendly request, a fact that had caught him slightly off guard. Nonetheless, after a considerable amount of debate, mostly oriented towards attempting to understand the reasons behind Marianne's appeal, the already aged chief engineer finally gave in, promising to instruct the boy on the delicate art that was to be a devicer. Marianne had only smiled, giving a quick thanks and embrace goodbye, before returning to her villa, Lelouch in her arms.

It was only a scant two days later, and almost only barely a week following the prince's Day of Foundation, during which said boy's training had begun, with none other than his mother as instructor. To those present at the first training session's surprise, the violet eyed child seemed to grasp ahold of the basics of piloting rather naturally, his first attempt within a Knightmare simulator, calibrated to newly developed Glasgow, netting him an above standard 62% rating, the majority of his 'kills' coming from long range and tactical moves, with only a few close combat encounters, a region where it was remarked he had considerable more difficulty at. Nevertheless, it was a promising start, the lessons advancing past basics and onto more advanced courses, to Marianne's apparent delight.

Now, if Emperor Charles 5th Consort could be described as the very pinnacle of motherhood at certain times, Knightmare combat, whether it be real or simulated, was by far not one of them. Marianne was harsh, brutal, and above all, merciless, forcing Lelouch time and time again to engage her in combat, only to flatten his artificial rear in an endless cycle of defeats. By the end of the day, Lelouch had been ragged, exhausted from his efforts as he'd attempted to fend of his beast of a mother. So harsh had the Knight of Six been that he'd actually passed out mere moments after having left the simulator, Marianne being forced to carry her child to the awaiting limousine, reassuring a slightly panicked Ruben that he would be fine and that there was nothing to fret about. She did, however, comment on how he fought valiantly, if not futility, his strategies and tactics having served as temporary buffers and delays that had allowed him to extend their sparring sessions to lengths much longer than they would have otherwise been, all the while mentioning his need for increased physicality, a detail that would soon be remedied.

And so the days went by, on and on, with the Empress and her son making their daily treks to the Ashford compound, training late into the afternoon as long as time would permit, only to then return home and rest, Lelouch always noticeably spent, though somewhat less as the weeks dragged on. He may not have developed much, though the repeated sessions did appear to have had some effect on his stamina at the ver least, Milly's teasing never letting go of said fact. Lelouch had attempted to defend himself from the petite blonde's onslaught, mentioning his relatively young age as the primary culprit to his inability, though a prompt race between the two children had all but crushed his explanations, Milly having between his run but more than half a minute. The boy had return home both angered and ashamed, vowing that he would have his vengeance on day, no matter the price.

Eventually, Marianne had reached a point where she was actually beginning to struggle against the ten year old, her teachings and techniques having ingrained themselves within her son's psyche and aiding him as he dueled his mother in their, now routine, matches, combining them with his trademark strategies in the hopes of one day, finally, defeating her. He was left to want.

"One day you'll get it darling, don't you give up!" Marianne had said, smugness in her voice.

The 11th Princes considerable abscesses, however, ultimately caught the ruling monarchs attention, his interest peaked at his son's lesser known actions, eventually summoning his favorite wife to court.

"Marianne," He'd began, voice passive yet full of authority, "do you know of your son's most recent exploits?", he inquired.

The court became silent at the singular question, their interest peaked as well considering the prince's actions upon his formal introduction, eager to learn of his actions so as to prepare themselves should some form of 'intervention' be deemed necessary. They would not sit idly by as a new threat made its presence known upon the board, their positions at stake.

The Knight of Six had simply beamed in response, responding, "Your Majesty's son has been under my tutelage for the past month, I have been teaching him the art of Knightmare piloting." Her voice was respectful and calculating, her rhetoric meeting that required by the royal court, though undeniably laced with a sense of both pride and joy.

Charles had simply arched an eyebrow at his beloved's response, choosing to know more about the subject, his curiosity peaked. "And what had the boy accomplished so far, if I may ask?" He continued, his deadpan demeanor not falling, despite his internal feelings. He had to maintain appearances, after all.

Marianne answered him, explaining with satisfaction how, "The 11th Prince's progress has gone remarkably well, his scores within the simulators having reached a commendable 84% at this time."

The summoning had ended but a short time after, Marianne having left the throne room soon after, leaving behind a both anxious and angered series of nobles, the Commoner Empress' 'good' news being considered as nothing more but another threat to there power, Lelouch's progression only resulting in a raising of their ire. But such was the law of imperial politics, and it was such that it failed to bother her. She had, however, noticed rather off topically how much an adult Schneizel and adolescent Cornelia had been absorbed into her explanations, no doubt wondering over the future implications over their younger half - sibling. Only time would tell how either of them would take the news. For now, she would continue her work, her daily sessions with her son being not but a half - hour away.

* * *

Charles zi Britannia, 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, was pleased. He'd convoked Marianne to see him during the hours of public court not long ago, intrigued at his son, Lelouch's, recent disappearance from the limelight. It hadn't been long ago that the 5th Empress had approached him on their son's apparent messing with the stock market, having shown the prince's bank statements as proof of his, thus far, undetected actions, the numbers being of such size that even his Knight of One, Bismarck Waldstein, had subconsciously whistled upon observing the value.

So it was only natural for him, or was it, for him to become curious as to his favorite child's actions after several weeks of apparent inactivity, unsure of the scheming and plots that may have been going on behind his back.

The man could only be described as surprised, in an all to pleasant manner, when his Knight of Six had explained to him and court how the boy, aged but only of ten years, was learning, and even excelling, at the arts of Knightmare piloting. It could truly be said that Lelouch now resembled his parents in all ways there were, the perfect combination of his and his love's most remarkable traits.

'What a son I have' The aging monarch mused, no small amount of mirth detectable within his thoughts. 'I can only imagine what you'll accomplish in the future…' The notion then trailing off, his attention brought back to the matters at hand, a rather ungodly sick of paperwork splayed across his desk.

The Emperor simply gazed down upon the papers requiring his signature, glaring at them as if attempting to will them to burst into flames, leaving him alone.

"Maybe I should begin to delegate some of these…less favorable aspects of my rule…" He muttered, annoyance and trace hints of fatigue in his tone. "Hmmm. Maybe if I made Schneizel Prime Minister…", Came his final comment, before lapsing back into the repetitive process that was signing signatures, the notion lost, at least for now, in the jumbled heap that was his Majesty's mind.

* * *

If there was a word to describe 2nd Princess Cornelia's most recent state of mind, then it was satisfaction. Her idol's son, Lelouch, was learning how to pilot Knightmares, at not but the age of ten, ten for God's sake! It was a feat in it of itself, an yet it was the truth. The son of her most respected figure, Marianne, was destined to become a pilot. It left a rather warm feeling in her stomach, a small smile adorning her otherwise serious features.

Not only was her younger half - brother the more pleasant of her siblings, her ranking of him being next to none behind Euphemia and Schneizel, as well as Odysseus, but he was also an immensely gentle should when it came to those he loved, all to similar to herself. It was a detail that had only brought the two of them close together, their relationship as kin cemented further through Euphemia's own existence.

'He's going to make a fine soldier.' She thought, amusement in her voice.

Yes, she would take the boy under her wing one day, it was destined. With him at her side she would make her Lady, his mother, proud, and they would come to protect each other in their time of need, their sisters acting as motivation should it ever be required. Life, it would seem, was looking up.

If only she'd known how it would all come crashing down so soon.

* * *

It was, as much as he could tell, well into the night when his mother woke him up, her hands softly shacking him from his, so far, peaceful slumber.

"Lelouch?" His mother's sweet tone spoke, soft and comforting, "Can you get up, mother needs you to come with her for a little while." She stated.

His mind clouded by his awakening, Lelouch simply nodded his head in compliance, his small figure, still sore from the day's piloting lessons, quickly dawning on a silken white night robe, before letting himself be led out of his room by the hand.

Following Marianne's hand in a blind fashion, Lelouch's thoughts began to run amok in the face of this unexpected occurrence, having no bearing on the reasons behind the situation. Why had his mother woken him up? What duties could they have to attend. And, more pressing of all, what could possibly have his mother's attention in the dead of nig…

And then it hit him, the full force of realization bursting its way into his mind, dragging all other processes to an immediate halt. V.V. It had to be V.V. There was no other logical explanation behind his current predicament. It was only then that he began to register his surrounding environment, the sudden sense of urgency causing a surge of adrenaline throughout his system. But it was all too late.

He realized, to his horror, that both he and his mother were on lower portion of the Aries Villa's main stairway, a small, blonde figure at the front, rifle in hand.

His body reacted instinctively, a flash of movement and a single scream ringing out into the moonlight hallway, panicked and afraid.

"MOTHER!"

* * *

For several moments, Marianne sat in a daze, confused at what events had transpired only mere seconds ago.

She had arranged a meeting with Charles' elder brother, V.V., having been requested to speak with him in the company of her son, Lelouch. Though the immortal child had not dolled out any specific details, the Empress Consort failed to see the possible danger she or her child might have been dragged into, and therefore had made preparations for the Villa's staff and guards' dismissals for the evening, ensuring none would know of the secret meeting.

She had brought Lelouch along with her as requested, and had been talking with her partner in crime for a brief period before the latter suddenly hauled out a hidden rifle from within the confines of his cape, its aim set both directly at herself and her son. It was at that moment that she had come to realize the nature of V.V.'s request, comprehension settling in all too late for her produce a solution for her or Lelouch's survival. And then there was a scream.

"MOTHER!"

She had just been considering shielding her precious son with her own body as a sort of shield, their seemingly inevitable dies but seconds away, only to realize how she'd been pushed off to the side, her back and rear landing harshly upon the nearby ground. This was soon followed by a series of gunshots ringing throughout the Villa's cavernous structure, flashes of bright yellow light, characteristic of firearms, illuminating the otherwise darkened scene, before silence had settled in once more.

Cautiously rising from her fallen position, Marianne observed the scene that was currently playing out before her very eyes, an expression of confusion almost immediately turning to one of shock. At the stairways bottom lied the limp form of V.V., 'dead', a succession of bullet holes doting what had once been his forehead, thin streams of blood oozing from the wounds and slowly pooling around the 'victims' head. More fearfully, however, was the spindly form that was her son's, limbs stretched out across the carpeted staircase, a Britannian officer's pistol dropped at his side. What she saw rocked her to her very core.

Lelouch's form was the very definition of a mother's worst nightmare, his body having been riddled with bullets and an alarmingly large pool of crimson having formed beneath his unmoving body, snow white clothing stained a blood red shade. Her child, her most precious son, was dying, shot in his attempt to protect her from the unknowing assassin whom had come in the dead of night, intentions unknown.

Snapping out of her stupor, Marianne stood up and ran towards a nearby portrait of her and her children, curtesy of an admiring Clovis, and yanked the delicate gilded frame off from its marble wall, revealing a large, and previously hidden red button. Said button was, in fact, an emergency that, when activated, would automatically signal for the immediate summoning of the Imperial Guard and medical services.

Slamming the unassuming trigger with all of her might, so much so that its outer casing, in fact, split, the panicking Marianne quickly ran back over to the unmoving body of her son, cradling him in her arms as tears made their way down her face.

She called out to him, "Lulu!? Lulu!? Can you hear me!? Please answer me! Mommy is here, alright?! Mommy is here!?" Her voice was delirious and unstable, tone wavering from the sheer horror of the moment.

An ever more pale Lelouch's eyes fluttered open, his face calm and weary, as if he'd just been awoken from slumber. "Mother?" He crocked out, his voice barely above a whisper, his voice weak and uncertain, "Why am I so cold?" He asked innocently, his tone that of death itself.

Marianne simply cradled her child ever closer to her body, hands desperately attempting to stem the blood flow as she held onto him for dear life, all the while answering, "Lulu, please stay with me, ok?! Please listen to mommy's voice! Don't close your eyes Lulu, you hear me?! Don't close your eyes!"

But the empress' desperate pleas fell upon death ears, her ten year old son eyelids having dropped down to a close, his breath ceasing as his heart stopped.

The last thing Marianne came to notice that night was a series of flashing lights outside the Aries Villa's windows and a loud bang from its main entrance's large oaken doors, a horrified Cornelia looking down upon the scene.

That night, Lelouch vi Britannia, 11th Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire and 17th in line for the Imperial Throne, son of Lady Marianne Lamperouge, died in his mother's arms.

* * *

Authors Note: Do no worry, the story does not end here! It's not over!


	5. Chapter V - Alive But Alone

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter V: Alive But Alone**_

Throughout his many years of existence, Charles zi Britannia, 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, had come to experience many things, ranging anywhere from the mundane rumors of the daily court, to the more rare, and ultimately unsuccessful, attempts upon his person. But of all of the ordeals he had gone through in the last fifty years of his life, none had come mark him more than those dreadful times of facing an angered Marianne, an occurrence that was, unfortunately, and at this moment, happening right before his very eyes.

"WHERE IS HE CHARLES!" The 5th Consort bellowed, pure venom dripping from her words, her current mood being one which promised all but the worsts of deaths. "WHERE IS THAT VILLAIN WHO DARES TO CALL YOU HIS BROTHER! I WANT HIM FOUND DAMNIT!" She continued, hand formed into fist as she smashed an errant plate of fragile porcelain doting the Emperor's study, spraying shards all throughout the normally comfortable and luxurious room.

The mere fact that his wife had slipped into profanity only caused Charles to become even more wary of the current situation, knowing how every step he took from now on would be akin to walking through a minefield with a blindfold.

"Dear, you must calm down.." He began, his voice low and soothing, or at least as best he could manage considering how deep it was. He failed to get farther into his rebuttal before Marianne, once again, reeled upon him, her eyes shooting an enraged glare.

" _CALM_?!" She screeched, as if asking if her husband was being serious. "YOU WANT ME TO BE _CALM_?!" She continued with disbelief, her voice reaching even seemingly higher octaves, if such a thing were possible, roaring out her emotions. Without pause of breath, the Knight of Six continued, "HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY ASK SUCH A THING FROM ME!? _YOUR_ SON, _OUR_ PERFECT LITTLE BOY, WAS JUST KILLED BY THAT _THING_ V.V., ALL BECAUSE HE TRIED TO _PROTECT_ ME, MY LIFE, AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO BE _CALM_!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!? IF I WASN'T…"

Marianne's hatred driven rant finally came to a halt as the Emperor interjected himself into his wife's personal monologue, his patience lost. "ENOUGH!" He howled, a scowl upon his face and a twitching in his eye.

Her husband's sudden retort drew a small yelp from Marianne's, now sore, throat, the powerful and commanding voice of her husband, combined with his now erect appearance, silencing the recently murder inclined Empress.

Regaining his trademark stone facade, Charles sat back down upon his office's singular leather armchair, an enlarged sigh breathing itself out from his mouth. "Marianne," He continued, his brief outburst forgotten, "I understand how you feel, I too had grown attached to the boy, considering how much promise he'd shown, but there is nothing we can do." His tone was back to its softer version of before, his attempts at appeasing his wife having little effect.

"But…But Charles!" Marianne stuttered, her expression betraying the emotions of one both shocked and appalled, "How can you simply let him get away, after what he's done?!"

Her husband's lack of response prompted the, now ever so slightly cooler headed, woman to continue, her voice wavering but a little, "Lelouch, _your_ son, _our_ son, the very definition of a perfect heir, is dead! Why aren't you any more angry than this?! Do you just not care!? He was everything we ever wanted, and now, he's gone! Not to mention how his sacrifice is the only reason I'm still here, mind you! If he hadn't been so paranoid to begin with, I might as well have died with him, riddle by your _brother's_ bullets! What is it that's holding you back!?"

The Emperor simply let his beloved expel her anger, understanding, at least as closely as he could, the reason behind her anger. He too had once lost family, most notably his mother, and he too, despite what he may proclaim, had felt an overwhelmingly large amount mixture of both anger and remorse. What made his reaction different from his wife's, however, was that he'd since learned to cope with such things long ago, burying his emotions deep within the confines of his heart, locking them in. Looking into his queen's eyes, he began, "Marianne, I understand what it is you're going through, I understand your pain, but we cannot afford to let this event get in the way of our plan, do you understand what it is I'm asking from you?"

Marianne's face, now wet from spilled tears, simply noted up and down, up and down, in silent consent. She'd finally calmed herself down, reigning in her emotions, allowing the more logical portion of her mind to take over once more. "Ye…Yes Dear." She stuttered, thought her voice appeared hollow and shattered, as if a portion of her soul had just been ripped away. "It's just that…our boy is gone , our perfect little boy, and I couldn't even save him, I couldn't even say goodbye…"

Charles simply puled his grieving love into his embrace, his tall form towering over her as he pulled her into his broad chest, chin resting upon her head. "It will be alright, my love. Once Ragnarök is complete, you'll be able to see him again, and it will be as if none of this tragedy had ever happened. All we can do for now is continue on with the plan and hope that everything goes as we intended."

Her husband's words of comfort finally stilled the dry weeping consort, her voice having reached is naturally prominent tone, although still lacking its teasing demeanor, before inquiring, "And what of V.V.? Are you going to do anything about that? His body disappeared soon after Cornelia had arrived, so I can only assume he's gone back to the Directorate."

For a moment Charle's eyes glossed over, starring into the distance as he pondered the younger woman's question. What was he going to do? In not but a single night, his brother, the one sibling he'd made a vow to so many years ago, had robbed him of not only his favorite son, but also nearly slain his most cherished wife. To say he felt to resentment towards the blonde immortal would be a lie, but could he truly take action against him either? The emotional dilemma was rather unnerving to him.

Finally, after what appeared to have been the span of several moments, he finally spoke, "What V.V. has done to Lelouch and you is not something I take lightly, and I can promise you he will be given his due at the proper time. However, as it currently stands, to take action against him would be foolish, his skills and code are of a great importance to our cause, not to mention that he remains my brother, no matter the actions. All I can tell you is that I'm grateful your son was at least able to save your life, if not his own. I couldn't begin to tell you the grief I would have felt should you have been lost as well." His words were genuine and heartfelt, an immensely rare matter for the typically faceless monarch, though in the presence of Marianne such expressions of emotion were allowed, bringing a modicum of comfort to his otherwise strained daily life.

Suddenly, as if materializing from thin air, his Majesty's loyal knight, Bismarck Waldstein, entered the room, his pace hurried and abrupt. His failure to properly ask permission for entrance only accentuated the fact that whatever information he held had to be of grave importance, so much so that Charles tilted his head so as to face his subordinate's, eyebrow arched. The Knight of One began, "Your Majesty, I have urgent news", voice calm and flat, the polar opposite of his most recent body language.

"And what is this news you seem so inclined to tell me?" The Emperor inquired, having released Marianne from his grasp, facing the Round fully, a hint of ire and intrigue lacing his words.

Bismarck simply starred into his ruler's eyes and spoke, "The Prince lives."

* * *

When Cornelia li Britannia had arrived upon the night's scene, she had been utterly petrified. Having smashed in the large, oaken gates of the Aries Villa, a sense of panicked vigor coursing through her body, she could only think of the dangers her idol must have been facing. While it was customary for members of the imperial family to have some form of emergency system in place, it was almost never that they had actually been used, the rare occasions on which said systems had initiated having revealed themselves, at least so far, to have been only accidents, curtesy of some disgruntled child or accidental fall. More often then not, deaths within the ruling family were either through natural causes or assassination, and the later of the two had never allowed the chosen victims enough time to even so much as attempt to call for help, no matter how near their failsafe had been. And so, it had been to her utmost horror upon waking up to the blazing alarms of the guards' barracks, her very first thought being that of the safety of her charge. If Lady Marianne was calling for help, then she could only invasion the worst possible scenario of things to come.

It didn't take long for the guards to both assemble and mount up, their rifles on hand and armor in place, but it all seemed to be an eternity for the, still relatively young, 2nd Princess of Britannia, her heart pounding as they scrambled towards their APCs for transport to their charge's home, a medical truck and squadron of imperial doctors accompanying them should their services be required.

After what had felt like an hour, despite taking little more than a minute or two, the small convoy had appeared at the Villa's gates, and, without stopping, had smashed into its entry gate. Disembarking, the purple haired Captain had then beelined for the structure's front entry, smashing in its doors with the help of a small, cylindrical battering ram, its steel composition splintering the wooden frame.

It was at that time at which her eyes adjusted to the dimly light center of the room, pupils widening as much as for the lack of illumination as much as for the scene she was facing. There, at the bottom of the building's iconic stairway, lay the hunched over figure of the 5th Empress Consort, a pool of blood at her feet. For a moment Cornelia's breath stilled, believing that she'd come to late and that her idol's fate was already sealed, the crimson liquid at the woman's base giving an air that she'd been shot and was, most likely, dead from bloodlust. It was only after several more seconds of concentrated starring that the young woman came to fully understand the situation, the figure of a small boy emerging between Marianne's arms as the mother shifted positions, tears running down her face as she wailed, "Lulu, please stay with me, ok?! Please listen to mommy's voice! Don't close your eyes Lulu, you hear me?! Don't close your eyes!"

The sudden realization hit Cornelia with a force comparable to that of a large bullet, her hitherto clouded mind gaining clarity. It had not been Lady Marianne who was harmed, no. Instead, it was her son, Lelouch, who lay dying.

Coming to her senses, the Captain of the Guard sprinted across the room's marble tiled floor shouting, "Lady Marianne, are you alright?! What is it that happened here?!"

Her charge failed to answer, consciousness focused solely upon the thin frame of the boy in her arms, life seeping form him at an alarming rate despite her best attempts. When she realized Marianne had not heard, Cornelia repeated the question, though this time with greater force, "Lady Marianne, are you harmed?!"

As if awakening from a daze, the raven haired consort turned her head so as to face Cornelia's own, an expression of utter grief plastered across her usually delicate features, one never seen before.

"Cornelia!?" She exclaimed, as if surprised by her subordinates presence, though the notion became quickly dispelled. "Thank God you've arrived, Lulu's not breathing and I can't get him to open his eyes! Please do something, I can't lose him! You have to save him! Where are the doctors!?" The woman's tone was completely frantic, a sense of dread and anguish layered over every word.

Quickly grabbing the communicator at her rightmost side, the 2nd Princess barked out an order, daring for those on the line to hesitate or disagree in the slightest of fashions, "1st Squad, move into the Villa's main floor immediately to secure the room, and bring in the emergency personnel this instant! Inform them they will need a stretcher and multiple blood packs as well, the 11th Prince had been severely injured!" A rapid and customary, "Yes, my Lord.", sounded from the other side, acknowledging the order.

Her commands properly relayed, Cornelia approached Marianne shacking form, laying her hands upon the older woman's shoulders in an attempt at reassurance, as slight as it might be. Soothingly she whispered, "It will be alright my Lady, your so…I mean Lelouch will be ok. He is strong, and always has been, isn't that what your husband always said, that the strong will endure?"

Marianne simply eyed the standing Cornelia for a moment before eliciting a heartfelt sob, the still bleeding figure of Lelouch in her arms, exposed by the natural and artificially flashing lights streaming in from the outside. Finally gaining an appropriate glimpse of her younger half - brother's body, the Captain was unable to prevent herself from feeling a turning in her stomach.

He was going to die, she was sure of it. When one enrolled into the Britannian military, it was customary for the first few in class courses to address the issues of battlefield injuries, therefore requiring a moderate amount of knowledge on the human body. This included data such as weak points, vital organs, major arteries and other such related materials, information which could be used to determine the best course of action regarding a compatriot's, or one's own, wounds, although there is no denying that it was also, more than once, utilized in more…offensive manners. And so it should have been no surprise as Cornelia glanced over the child's injuries that she immediately came to the only logical prognosis: Death.

To begin with, Lelouch's skin was a deathly pale, virtually all of its color drained from his body considering the still ever expanding pools of crimson upon the stairs and staining his robes. Next was the simple fact that his fragile body was simply littered with holes, the majority of the assailants fire having impacted in the areas of the chest and legs, though somehow missing the arms. There could be no doubt that at least several of the projectiles had caused major damage to his organs, with either his lungs of gut being the more likely of the victims. Finally, as the still sobbing Empress had dutifully pointed out, Lelouch had simply ceased to breath, the final nail in the proverbial, and soon literal, coffin.

These thoughts ran across the synapses of Cornelia's mind at an alarmingly rapid rate, though she choose to squash the all to grizzly logic so as to provide Marianne with at least some inkling of hope, even if it should prove to be false.

Soon, a small team of approximately twenty guards had joined the trio of figures present within the room, a contingency of doctors at the rear, stretcher in hand. As the men in white blouses approached the boy prince's figure, Cornelia shot them a rather intense glare, a silent warning should anything 'unexpected' happen. Unfortunately, as said men began to pry the body from the Empress's arms, the later screeched.

"No, please don't take my boy away! Don't take my darling son away from me again!" Marianne's voice was borderline deranged, a wild gleam in her piercing eyes.

The medic's faltered ever so slightly before Cornelia herself intervened, placing the body on the stretcher and ordering the duo out, all the while holding the frantic woman behind. There was nothing more she could do.

The last thing Marianne would remember from the event would be the dejected words of Cornelia presenting her with a heartfelt, "I'm sorry.", the trauma of the situation thing its just dues and plunging her into darkness. The 5th Consort had fainted.

* * *

When Lelouch came to, the first thing he saw was the stark white light of a medical lamp, its rays shinning mercilessly into his exposed eyes, temporarily blinding him as he reeled back from the pain. Unfortunately, however, the prince's sudden flailing resulted in his falling onto the floor, marble tiles smashing into his face. To say he was in some form of discomfort would be moot.

"Uhhgggg…" He groaned. "Where am I?" He then asked, as if waiting for someone to answer him.

Slowly pushing himself off the surface, which was remarkably clean he noticed, Lelouch groggily observed his surroundings, his mind having yet to reach its standard rate of operation, no doubt due to the recent trauma he'd endured. Being hit by fully automatic rifle fire was sure to leave anyone with some sort of mental backlash along with the, rather obvious, physical ones, right?

Now carefully eyeing the room in which he had awoken, Lelouch noted its rather Spartan appearance, with not more than a table, chair, computer , mirror and mortuary table finishing the largely cramped space.

'Wait…' He thought, confusion wiring its way into his brain, 'Mortuary table?'.

Sparring another glance at the object in question, the raven haired boy could only gasp at the reality that was. He had, in fact, fallen off of a mortuary table, its stainless steel legs and top being the very definition of a table for recently deceased individuals, complete with drainage pipe for any…leaking fluids.

Eyes widened in shock, he muttered, "But if I'm here and not in a hospital, that must mean…" His voice ceased, his words no longer able to make their way out of his mouth, jaw dropped, as understanding dawned upon him.

He had died, for that was the only explanation as to why he would be here, and yet, somehow, he was alive. Then a single thought came to mind, a not so distant memory of a shinning red bird in flight, one plastered upon a certain green haired witch's forehead.

Stumbling upright in the most demeaning of fashions, his rear exposed to the morgue's cool sterilized air, his gown protecting little, Lelouch made his way toward the room's opposite side, that on which a body sized mirror lay hanging upon the wall. He lifted his bangs and saw, right upon his own forehead, the all to familiar symbol of the code.

He had a Code. He was immortal. Then a thought came to him, 'Wait a minute, I'm only ten.'

A single, crass word made itself heard throughout the empty room.

"Shit."

* * *

"The Prince lives."

Bismarck's words clung to the throne room's air, time grinding to a halt at the three words he'd just pronounced to his liege and consort, an expression of utter seriousness etched across his features.

Both Charles and Marianne starred dumbly at the Knight of One's statement, as if they hadn't heard or were simply unable to understand. A tense silence hung for several moments, before the Emperor, in a tone of, dare he say, amazement, asked, "How?"

The question held no malice nor joy, only disbelief, the man being unable to summon any other form of emotion at this time.

The loyal knight replied, "I do not know, your Majesty. All that I've been told is that Prince Lelouch was found, _alive_ , walking the halls of the Imperial Morgue. They explained how he was clad only in the night robe in witch he had died, having asked them for directions in an attempt to, apparently, find the exit. It was also commented how the boy seemed to appear completely unharmed, with no visible words upon his body"

The royal duo simply stared bug - eyed at the man's explanation, unsure as of how to proceed. The very fact that their son was alive, alive of all things, was enough to destabilize the entirety of their footing, not to mention the need for a complete review of their most recent discussion.

Marianne, who'd remained silent up to this point, finally exclaimed, "LULU'S ALIVE!?" An aura had formed around the Empress' figure, radiating both joy and relief, the news bringing freshly spawned tears to her eyes. She then continued, though with a lowered tone, "Where is he and when can I see him!?"

Unfortunately for her, Charle's voice prevented an answer to the inquiry, stating firmly, "Bismarck, how many people know of this?"

Waldstein considered the question for a minute, before answering, "As of now, your Majesty, Lady Marianne, myself and the Imperial Mortuary's staff are the only one's aware of this information. If I may ask, my Lord, do you believe…"

The Emperor answered the unfinished question in an almost immediate fashion, "Yes.", he stated, the gruff bass of his voice echoing against the walls of the vast chamber, "It is the only explanation.", he concluded.

At these words the Knight of One's eyebrows arched up, the implication's of his Majesty's finality being one of an unprecedented magnitude. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he questioned, "But how could such a thing be possible? There is no discernible reason, nor any existing record, of such an event ever occurring? Is there something that I've not been told?"

Charles simply fixed his knight with his gaze, answering in a flat tone, frown upon his face, "No, Bismarck, I am unaware of how this could have happened, and we can be assured that my brother was just as ignorant as well, or else he would not have struck as he did today. As for your second question, you of all people should know of our plans, for everything we have come across has been given to you, so do not question my candor, understand?"

Having realized the nature of his mistake, Bismarck simply kneeled before his master, exclaiming, "Forgive me your Majesty, It was not my intention to question your actions. I am merely surprised at the repercussions this may have in your plans, considering how unexpected the development was."

It was then that a somewhat peeved Marianne made herself known to the two discussing men, demanding, "What are you two speaking of? Does this have anything to do with Lelouch?" While her tone was strong, there were hints of worry underlying her words, the nature of the conversation having seemingly become darker than she'd like.

Her husband turned to face her and said, "Marianne, I believe that Lelouch has a Code."

The raven haired woman simply gawked at him for a moment before replying, "Charles, if this is some sort of twisted joke than you'd have better…"

"I am not jesting Marianne," Charles interrupted, cutting her off, "it is the only logical explanation for his survival, both you and I know this. You saw the medical report Cornelia presented us with, Lelouch died long before reaching the hospital."

The blood from Marianne's face seemed to vanish for a moment, before returning to its normal color. 'Lelouch immortal?' She thought, 'But how can that be?' It was then that a far more serious matter came her mind, one which she choose to voice sooner, rather than latter.

"And what of V.V., does he know? If what you're telling me is true, than no doubt he must have become aware as well, right? What are we going to do? I refuse to simply place my son back into the hands of that monster." The vehemence in the last portion of her rant drew an ever so minute frown from the Emperor's face, thought he quickly suppressed it.

He then rebutted, "Marianne, I realize how tonight's events have brought you a great deal of stress, though please refrain from insulting my elder brother if you would. As for Lelouch himself I only see one way to protect him."

"And what would that be dear?" The Empress questioned, intrigued by whatever solution her husband seemed to have to offer.

"Exile." Was his deadpanned reply, his face as blank as rock.

"Your Majesty?" Bismarck questioned, a perplexed expression on his face.

"It remains quite simple really," Began the emperor, amusement in his words, "seeing as how it would be…unwise to present Lelouch as alive, considering the reports of his death that would have, by no doubt, spread, as well as the fact on how it would be difficult to shield him from any potential future actions from my brother, I shall have the boy exiled to a foreign power, somewhere where we will be able to keep him close at hand but far enough away so as to ensure his safety. It would be a shame to lose the boy."

"And to what nation would you send him dear?" Asked Marianne, the explanation having garnered her undivided attention.

"Japan." Was the straightforward reply.

"Japan?" She questioned, unaware of the reason behind such a choice.

Comprehending his beloved's apparent confusion, the Emperor began to elaborate, explaining how, "Japan is vital for two reasons. First of all, and most importantly, is the fact that one of the Thought Elevators have been discovered on a remote portion of land known as Kamine Island. Secondly, the Japanese mainland serves as the world's largest known reserve of raw Sakuradite, a mineral the empire is in dire need if we are to maintain our current advantage over the E.U. and Chinese Federation, not to mention how important a role it plays in our Knightmares. The only difficulty we face is that their current leadership, that of the Kururugi Regime, is heavily suspicious of our intentions. And what better method to have them lower their guard then to provide them with a hostage?" A sly grin formed upon Charles' face, his lips curling in an upwards fashion at their edge.

"You intend to make Lelouch a political hostage?" Marianne asked, frowning at the implications being laid out before her.

"It is for the best dear. Not only will he be safely away from my brother but, should either he or C.C. refuse to participate in our plans, then we will have another Code at our convenient disposal.

"A good plan your Majesty." Commented an impressed Bismarck.

"Noted." Replied the Emperor, somewhat dismissive in his tone.

"And what of Nunnally Charles, will you separate her from Lelouch? Would you do that to the boy?"

The Emperor momentarily froze at his consort's question, though only just. He, of all people, understood the sacred bond that existed between loyal siblings. It was a notion that both he and his brother understood all to well, in this world of lies. Could he bring himself to sever such a bond between Marianne's children. It was a dilemma to him, though he had to take into account the overarching goal. Ragnarök was the end, and Lelouch was but a means. Yes, he would separate them. Once it had all come to pass he would explain his actions and they would come to understand. His son was intelligent enough, his daughter kind. They would accept it, as would the world, all in due time. Emerging from his musing, the Emperor replied yet again, "Yes, I shall."

Marianne lowered her head, eyeing the floor, but remained silent. He knew she did not wish for such things, but he also knew that, she too, could understand the reasons behind his decision.

"Then it is settled." And with an air of finality, Charles zi Britannia left the throne room, Bismarck at his tail, walking towards his private quarters. The night had been all too long.

* * *

Lelouch had never been one for surprises, having a personal hatred for such things. The very name was synonymous for the unforeseen and unpredicted, terms which had never gone well within his mind. He'd always preferred the calculable and orderly, the factors that could be assembled and analyzed, rendering them easy to control or, at the very least, manipulate. So it would be easy to understand his annoyance when he'd been found searching for an escape at the morgue, only to be discovered by two doctors whom, apparently, had been on their way to conduct his autopsy. The reunion had, to be blunt, been rather difficult to explain. It would seem, however, that such event would only be the beginnings of his problems, unfortunately.

Not but an hour following his discovery, Lelouch had been forcibly carried off by a small team of O.S.I. agents and dumped onboard a plane, his only explanation having been what he'd been given in a small manilla colored folder. The experience had been rather anti - climactic he believed. It wasn't every day a prince died only to resurrect mere hours later, but, then again, he'd experience worse.

He would soon find out that he was being, once again, shipped off to Japan, his duty being that of a political exile, a tool in his father's grand scheme. Only this time, to his dismay, he would be alone.

"Nunnally…" He muttered under his breath, tears swelling at the corners of his eyes.

He was immortal, trapped within the body of a child, separated from the most important person in his life, and now, on a plane towards his newfound prison.

It was going to be a long flight…


	6. Chapter VI - Immortal In Exile

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter VI: Immortal in Exile**_

Japan. The Land of the Rising Sun. For seven long years this relatively large island nation, tightly squeezed between the Asian continent to its west and Pacific Ocean to its east, had served as the exiled Lamperouges' home. It was their home. And he was alone.

When Lelouch had realized that he'd pushed his mother out of the line of fire, it came to mind that he was probably going to die. After all, his mother had in his own timeline, so what hope could a child's body possibly have to survive fully - automatic rifle fire? The answer was pretty obvious: None. Though, while he didn't exactly wish to die, as who would really, he believed that it just might be for the best. True, he wouldn't be there anymore, that was a considerably blatant downside, but Nunnally would remain unharmed, her legs functional and eyes wide open. She would morn him, no doubt, but eventually, or so he hoped, the pain would fade away and she would be able to move on with her life. Besides, she would at least have mother at her side, so that would serve as some form of comfort, right?

'If I'm honest with myself, I'm not entirely sure about that.' He thought, pondering over the last conclusion.

To render things overtly clear, Lelouch did not fancy himself a martyr. He'd already sacrificed himself once for the world, therefore he failed to see why he should carry through with acts, such as the Zero Requiem, again. By no means did this imply he cared not for the world or would abandon his goal, no, but it did suggest the outcomes were driven by slightly less philanthropic means. Besides, if all went well he shouldn't have to die again, or at least that was the plan. C.C. might have appeared nonchalant about her numerous deaths, but he knew the truth. Dying hurt, and it was not a pleasant experience.

Despite what others may have thought of him, he was not selfless, and he knew that. Lelouch too had wants and desires, most notably his sister's happiness, unorthodox as it might've appeared. But is such a wish not selfish in its own way? He desired her happiness as it would, in turn, grant him his own form of joy, so could such a wish not be considered self - centered? Now, that didn't mean the actions he'd taken were diluted in the senses of their 'good' and 'evil', it simply placed a less altruistic motivation behind them, nothing more. In any case, by the end of the day, there was at least one positive consensus that could be driven from such information: If he could live, he would. Simple as that. How he would live was an altogether different question, thought such notions would be digressions from the main point. It all came down to his and his sister's happiness in the end. The world isn't perfect, humans cared about themselves.

But putting aside the highly moral and ethical debates that had briefly waged within his head, Lelouch came back to the matter at hand. He was in Japan, again, his time as a political exiled having started anew.

'Well,' Began a thought, 'let's see how this plays out'.

Slowly stepping out of the now grounded imperial jet, Lelouch set out to meet his fate, a small grin upon his face.

* * *

Kyoshiro Tohdoh was a soldier, through in through. Trained for years in the ways of the Samurai and a strict adherer of the unwritten Code of Bushidō, or "way of the warrior", the steadfast Colonel was a man of great dedication and virtually unmatched honor. And so it was, to his ever so slight annoyance, that he found himself at Osaka National Airport, acting as escort for an exiled Britannia prince, supposedly transferred to his country in a move of appeasement, though he knew better. For all intensive purposes, the boy was a political hostage, considered little more than a bargaining chip to be jockeyed by the two powers. It was sad really, though such was the way of the world.

Now Tohdoh perceived himself as a just man. While he did resent the fact of having been pulled off of regular duty, he could bare no grudge towards the child himself. Orders were orders, and the blame lay only with those in command. Such was life in the military, no matter which nation one hailed from. The Colonel also refrained from plainly judging their newfound 'guest' based solely on the fact that he was Britannian royalty, knowing it would be both unfair and unsubstantiated to begin with. He would give the boy a chance, and only then would he deem it just to determine his character. These views, however, did not seem equally shared among his troops, however, a made apparent by the ever so fervent Chiba.

"I cannot believe the Prime Minister had us play guard dog for some racist Britannian, this is utterly demeaning! We should have stayed on our previous assignment and have so other dregs take care of this!" The words she spat were as sharp as they were bitter, though he could only think of it as natural for the young soldier. She'd always seemed to harbor a rather irrational temper towards non - Japanese.

"I can't agree with you any more Chiba, this sort of job should have been given over to government agents, not soldiers. Colonel, why is it that we're here exactly, isn't there something better to do?" The question originated from the even younger form of Shōgo Asahina, a mere 21 years of age.

A third voice interjected itself into the conversation, its tone reflecting a sense of far greater patience and respect, that of Ryōga Senba whom, despite having just entered his 30s, was already reflecting signs of a both receding and whitening hair line, much to said soldier's displeasure. Stress was one of the less fortunate parts of military life. He spoke, "The reason why we are here is because we have been ordered to be here, no more, no less. As soldiers we are inclined to follow those orders, whether you like them or not. And as for those rather snarky remarks of yours Chiba, I don't think it's exactly appropriate for you to speak of him in such a manner, he is our country's guest after all. And as to his character, I truly don't believe you can speak of it with accuracy, you haven't even met the man, so it's only natural that you give him a chance."

It was then that a fourth, and final, person entered the increasingly heated conversation, that of Kōsetsu Urabe. Out of all of the members of the Four Holy Swords, it was Urabe whom Tohdoh believed to be of soundest mind, second only to Senba, often using logic and reasoning over the more reckless portions of emotion and belief, a trait he found admirable in the skilled swordsman. The blue haired Japanese spoke, "Ah, but that is where you are wrong Senba, the prince is not a man but a boy, ten to be exact."

"What do you mean he's only ten?!" Shouted a clearly displeased Asahina, voice cracking, "You mean to tell me they send us to play watchdog over a prince and he's just a brat to top it off?! Who's idea was this?!"

"This is ridiculous!" Continued an equally annoyed Chiba, a scowl on her face, picking up where her close friend left off, "The Britannian's hand us a political hostage to watch over and they don't even have the curtsey to send us a proper adult, its insulting! We didn't come all this way just to act as babysitters!"

Tohdoh, having grown weary of his Swords' youngest members dishonorable tone, finally lost patience and barked, "Silence!", the steel in his voice ensuring his word would be taken as an order.

Their leader's sudden outburst quickly silenced the two disgruntled member's, though their expression did not lose any of their disgust, clearly unhappy about the situation. The nerve the Britannians had.

The black haired Colonel then continued, "Chiba, Asahina, both of your words are as disrespectful as they are unwarranted! Neither do have have the sufficient information to judge the prince's character but you also disregard the fact that he remains nothing more than a political hostage, as you appropriately pointed out! By all accounts he has had no say in this and is being punished for whatever minor inconvenience he may have caused their Emperor, though I am dubious of its importance considering how cruel the man has shown to been! Furthermore, we are here because we have been _ordered_ to be here, as Senba has stated, so you will silence yourselves and render your uniforms presentable, understood!?"

The young duo simply bowed their heads in shame while quickly replying with the traditional, "Yes Sir!", eyes glued to their feet as they attempted to slink away from the no doubt present glare their commander must have been shooting at them.

Calming himself from his impassioned outburst, Tohdoh regained his trademark neutral facade, carefully eyeing a small, white approaching aircraft, the Britannian Empire's insignia branded upon it's side. The prince had arrived.

Gesturing for both his Swords and nearby infantry company to follow, the Colonel swiftly made his way towards the now grounded aircraft, it's side hatch opening slowly. It was then that, for the first time, Tohdoh played his eyes upon the newly exiled prince.

The boy was, from appearances only, an interesting sight. His hair was a deeply colored raven black, not all too dissimilar to his own, while his eyes were deep violet, symbolic of his heritage towards Britannian nobility. What caught his attention, however, was how dark said eyes appeared to be, as if they held the experiences and knowledge, both good and bad, of another lifetime. It was rather unsettling.

Aside from these features, the boy appeared to be rather thin of frame as well, his body structure oddly feminine in appearance, lacking in girth though making up in height, his spindly legs and torso drawing him up to Tohdoh's midsection, just above the stomach.

Finally, however, came the young prince's attire, one of the more noticeable aspects of his overall appearance. The boy was dressed completely in black, his shoes, pants, shirt and cape all colored in the imperceivable dark color, with not more than a select few golden highlights acting to contrast the various portions of his figure. It gave him an ever so menacing air, as curious as such might sound.

Observing his now present charge, the Colonel and his subordinates traced the boy prince's movements with focus, noting the aura of perceived confidence and invincibility I'm his gait, a smile upon his face. What came next would catch the group of Japanese soldiers completely off guard.

"Konichiwa Kyoshiro - san, I am Lelouch vi Britannia." The boy spoke in perfectly fluent Japanese, his head bowed low as he faced Tohdoh's figure from affront. He then continued, "I am honored that it was you and your Four Holy Swords that came to escort me today, I believe it will make for quite an interesting conversation while you escort me to my destination", his tone expressing sincere respect and, possibly, delight?

The young prince's greetings, combined with his showing of traditional Japanese respect, had temporarily frozen the vast majority of nearby Japanese forces, who simply starred at the boy for several moments. Adding to their bewilderment were the facts that he'd not only spoken their native tongue in a flawless manner, but that he'd also _prostrated_ himself, he, a Britannian Prince, the very definition of smug superiority, in front of not more that a mid - ranked Japanese officer. It was a unique experience, to say the least.

Awakening from his brief period of uncertainty, Tohdoh looked upon his charge and returned the curtesy, bowing down himself though speaking in his slightly accented Britannian, emulating the respect he had been shown by the boy, "And it is my honor to welcome you to the proud nation of Japan, you Highness."

At the mention of his formal title, both the Colonel and the Swords caught a brief glimpse of a frown upon the boy's face, before said child spoke, "As much as I appreciate your adherence to formalities, I would prefer if you could do away with such titles, they are as petty as they are meaningless. I would also appreciate if you could simply address me as Lelouch for the duration of my stay, if you would allow me in kind to do away with your ranks as well." Lelouch then extended a his right hand to the front, expectant of a handshake that would seal the agreement.

Once again Kyoshiro and his Swords were caught aback by their charge's apparently nonchalant and respectful demeanor, although less than previously due to the similarity of the two cases.

The Colonel, on his part, starred dumbly at the young boy's small hand, before finally extending his own, grasping it in a firm shake, a grin now having formed across his face, pleased at current turn of events. The day would not be so bad after all. He spoke while shacking hands, "It would be my pleasure Lelouch."

'Strong grip.' Tohdoh dully noted within his mind, considering the pressure he was experiencing despite the boy's weak constitution, though he did notice rather large muscles near the arms and legs. Maybe he practiced swimming?

Their introduction complete, the officer than proceeded to introduce his Swords to the prince, although, once again, the boy caught him off guard, accurately pinpointing each and every member of the famed squad, drawing both pleased and unhappy expressions from the group, the former consisting of smiling Urabe and Senba, while the latter included a scowling Chiba and Asahina. Clearly their opinions of the boy differed greatly.

It wasn't long before the group made their way to the arranged convoy, Lelouch, yet again, surprising the surrounding men as he asked permission to ride along with the swords instead of in the arranged limousine, explaining how he "would much prefer their company then being alone in some state car". They unanimously accepted, though Chiba and Asahina more out of suspicion than interest.

And so, the convoy, an amalgamation of trucks, motorcycles and one empty limousine, save for the driver at least, made course for their designated destination, the Kururugi Shrine.

* * *

Marianne vi Britannia, 5th Empress Consort of the Holy Britannian Empire, was tired. Ever since Lelouch's 'death', her daughter, Nunnally, had fallen into a state of sickening depression.

Upon first having announced the news of her brother's 'demise', Marianne's little girl had believed it to be a joke, her smile falling to leave her face as she teased her mother on the basis that lying was a very nasty habit and how she'd expect better from mother. As Marianne continued, however, the little auburn haired girl's smile gradually began to fade, eventually reaching a point where she entered a stage of denial, crying over her loving sibling's departure from the world. The fact of seeing her only remaining child, at least the one who could stay by her side, cry, had truly been a heart wrenching experience for the warring mother, a feeling of guilt flowing over her being considering the omitted detail that it was all a lie. She sobbed little on her part, having spilled enough tears the day past, the comfort of truth and Charles' request for secrecy stealing her resolve for the ends, despite how painful the means appeared to be.

'It could always be worse.' She thought to herself, knowing how her son truly could have lost his life, and herself her own, should the dual miracle of that night not have happened. By the end of the day, it was but mere emotions that were strained, and not lives. Things could have ended up in a much more dire manner.

So there lay Marianne, a wailing Nunnally in her arms, huddled against her mother's chest, tears weighing down the silken fabric of the Empress' dress. The little princess would soon after cry herself to sleep, the raven haired woman still by her side, lounging on her child's bed, holding on tightly. She could offer no more comfort.

'I truly hope we've done the right thing Charles.' Was Marianne's introspection, the day's final thought before, she too, fell into the soothing embrace of dreamless slumber.

Unnoticed by the duo was an amber eyed witch, peaking into the darkened room through a small slit in the door, a slight frown upon her face.

"Something isn't right here…" She muttered, before calmly making her way back towards her room, her footsteps light and soundless, as if she were a cat sneaking around the house.

* * *

Within the li Britannia estate, a 20 year old Cornelia stood within her room, body facing towards the window. It had begun to rain, fat droplets of water pouring down upon the otherwise dry Arizona region, the sky darkened by the menacingly gray overhead clouds. It was as if the sky itself grieved over Marianne's loss.

She had only just entered her room before having begun to contemplate the outside, having been, only mere moments ago, consoling a heartbroken Euphemia. She knew her sister had grown close to Lelouch over the years, a little to close to her taste, actually, but the emotions she had poured out as she lay sobbing into her sister's chest indicated a far more intimate relationship, possibly boarding that of love. It was an unsettling notion, to see such expressions of sorrow at such a young age, but all Cornelia could do was attempt to comfort the little girl that Euphy was.

She herself morned for the loss, having become attached to Lelouch as she had with a select other few siblings, thinking it unfair for such a tragedy to strike one so young and so promising. He'd truly been the epitome of his parents, in virtually every way, right down to Knightmare piloting, as Marianne had informed her once. To see his death was an unpleasant memory she buried deep inside her, unwilling to revisit it. She took comfort, however, in knowing how the situation could have been worse, with Lady Marianne's death.

It had come to her as a small shock, really, when her idol had finally come to explain the situation to her after having woken from her stupor. It was Lelouch who'm had saved his mother, at the cost of his own life, by firing upon the intruder while pushing his parent out of harms way, taking the full force of the oncoming rifle fire. She'd known Lelouch to be defensive in his nature towards those he'd love, as well as his knowledge of firearms, as he'd shown on his Day of Foundation, but the fact that he'd been so paranoid so as to carry a pistol within the sleeves of his _night gown_ was one detail too much. Just what kind of thoughts had been running within his head, she wondered.

"I guess it's all rather moot point now." The 2nd Princess sighed, still starring out the window.

She'd lost a good sibling and almost lost her favored idol. She would not let such thing happen again.

Cornelia could only guess what the remaining vi Britannia's were going through at this time.

* * *

Schneizel el Britannia sat within his drawing room, a glass of Brandy in his hand. He didn't drink often, disliking the alcohol's effect upon the mind, but that didn't stop him from enjoying one of life's small pleasures here and now, more often in times of peace or those of pain. This occasion was the latter of the two.

The news of the 11th Prince's demise had been formally announced at Court, not but a day following the, so called, Aries Villa Incident. Not exactly an original name, true, but that was besides the point. To say there was more than one pleased face was an understatement. While the sly grins and elated expressions had not made themselves shown, it was more than obvious to how satisfied the majority of the nobles at court had been, the death of the 'Commoner Prince', as they called him, being a cause for secret celebration. The death of Lelouch had brought them great satisfaction, their ranks being rid of the eldest child of the vi Britannia line, as well as his automatic removal from the quest for the throne, a subject that had bothered them to no end. While the emperor was notoriously indifferent to his relatives, both Marianne and, especially, Lelouch, had garnered the old Monarch's attention, a fact which chaffed at both the nobles' and other royal family members' egos to no end. It was made worse considering how promising said prince had appeared, with many believing he would be only second to Schneizel as heir, an opinion he himself was inclined to agree with. His younger half - sibling had truly proven to be of an exceptional caliber.

While Schneizel himself was a rather unemotional man, it did not mean he could not come to care for those he was close to, a category Lelouch had been part of. The raven haired boy had impressed him, in more ways than one, since their first, and memorially cold, meetings. While he couldn't say they were allies, far from it in fact, he could say they were, at least in some aspects, friends, and like friends disagreed or agreed on various matters, be it politics, economics, warfare or other such subjects. It was another reason why he'd grown ever so slightly close to the boy, his intelligence. When he spoke to Lelouch, he had no need for masks, their both being to smart to effectively veil their intentions or feelings to one another. Their conversations were to the point, blunt, and deliberately avoided mincing their words, there was simply no need to do so. The exception was whenever they played chess, a practice they both drew great pleasure from, despite always ending in a draw. Lelouch was as challenging an opponent as he'd ever met.

And so, it was to both the pleasant, and less pleasant, memories, that Schneizel carefully sipped upon his liquor, enjoying the warmth it emanated from within his body and burn it caused while sliding down his throat. It was a tragedy, and he was saddened, but what good could come from grief? The best, and most logical, course of action was to move on and persevere. Such a thing is what Lelouch would have done, in any case.

"At least it's one less bidder to the throne…" He mused, before setting said glass down and eyeing the last, and unfinished, game he'd played with his brother, the black king standing proud within the board's center.

* * *

The journey to the Kururugi Shrine was one that would last an impressive six hours, a time - frame in which both Lelouch and the Holy Swords came to learn more about one - another. To begin with, it soon became apparent that the young prince disposed of a mind of an exceptional caliber, especially when it was applied to strategy.

"Lelouch?" Questioned Urabe in a gentle tone, rousing the boy from his shallow sleep, having fallen into slumber through the gentle rocking of the open - aired truck.

"Yes Urabe, what is it?" Questioned Lelouch, his voice slurring as he woke, a yawn escaping his lips as his mouth expanded to form an enlarged shape of an 'O'.

"Have you ever played Shogi?" He questioned, all the while raising his hand to present a miniature travel - on version of the game.

A small grin formed upon the Japanese man's face as Lelouch's eyes lit up, the prince stating, "Yes, I have played on occasion.", his voice expressing satisfaction at the possibility of the game.

Grabbing a nearby ammunition crate resting towards the forward portion of the transports, Urabe made room for himself between the leaned back forms of Senba and Asahina, positioning his body so as to fave his opponent from the opposite side of the board.

As the players began their dual of wits, the otherwise unoccupied Swords, along with Tohdoh himself, calmly observed the ongoing battle. At first, it appeared that Urabe would clearly emerge as victor, his positioning and tactics, combined with a small percentage of bias, convincing the honored unit's other members of the outcome. Lelouch's pieces, as they were seen, seemed both disorganized and uncoordinated at best, with no inkling of a common goal.

Chiba, who had begun to observe the game about midway, whispered to the nearby Asahina, "It seems the prince is going to have it handed to him by our friend." There was no small degree of smugness in her voice, her colleague merely nodding his ascent as he continued to eye the ongoing game.

"It would seem you are losing Lelouch." Came Senba's vocal reply, simply stating fact without a hint of malice in his words.

"Perhaps that is only what I want you to see." Was the prince's reply, a grin of his own now forming.

"And how so?" Questioned Urabe, clearly confused at the statement.

Lelouch simply flashed the man a smile, stating, "Know your enemy, know thyself, and in a hundred battles you will never be in peril."

"Sun Tzu." Pitched in an equally observant Tohdoh, his comment earning a nod from the prince, his violet eyes still trained upon the board.

"And with this act," Lelouch began, an ivory piece in his hand, "the battle begins.", he finished.

And true to his word, the true battle began. Lured into a sense of security, Urabe realized only too late that Lelouch's seemingly random movements were all but random, revealing themselves to be a series of traps and feints that rapidly wore down the Sword's own pieces, before completely annihilating from the face of the game. It was, for all intensive purposes, an absolute victory for the Britannian prince.

The complete and utter reversal of their comrades position came as a surprise to the observer's, not quite believing how the child had managed to bait and deceive his opponent in such a manner that it was only upon the traps sprinting that the reality of the situation dawned upon them. Everything, from the attitude to the moves, had been planned before hand, anticipating the enemy and drawing him ever deeper into the lions den. It instilled within them a newfound respect for the visitor.

Upon the game's end, Urabe simply smiled and held out his hand, exclaiming, "You are far smarter than you make yourself out to be Lelouch. Then again, considering how much you've surprised us so far, I can't come to think any less of you."

Lelouch flashed yet another smile, responding in his fluent Japanese, "It was an honor to play you."

Chiba, whose demeanor had gradually changed from pleased to soured, then inquired, "How about another game?" She would force the Britannian brat to eat face defeat if it was the last thing she'd do.

Violet eye shined at the blatant challenge, his grin becoming feral as he purred in response, "But of course…"

Needless to say, determination was not enough for the young soldier to defeat the even younger boy, her defeat acting as a sour taste in the back of her throat. It then came to Asahina's turn, with each Sword now taking their shot at defeating the noteworthy opponent. The result was the same as the two matches before, meaning victory for Lelouch.

Senba's attempt took much longer, an hour in fact, the balding man presenting a staunch defense as he faced down Lelouch's ferocious attacks, only to lose after a rapid series of splintered attacks and probings, moves which broke his defenses back and then allowed the enemy forces to overwhelm and defeat those pieces left behind. In a fashion similar to Urabe, the man simply smiled and commented upon his opponents skill, even going so far as propose a rematch at a later time should they meet again, something which Lelouch accepted in stride.

Finally came Kyoshiro's turn. If there was an opponent to match the young boy, then it was the Four Holy Sword's Leader himself. None had succeeded in beating the man, so it was only logical for the final match to come down to him. There was little over two hours left in the journey, time that would be put to full use as their conflict began. It would be said, at a later time, that said day's game would be the most difficult the Colonel would have ever played, and for good reason.

So far, with the majority of his opponents, Lelouch had maintained the same general strategy, one of receipt and ensnarement, save for a few minor details and changes. With Tohdoh, however, he knew such tricks would not work.

Tohdoh was a far more offensive player than his subordinates, preferring key strikes and powerful assaults over the more defensive and broad tactics of the challengers before him. This gained him an edge near the game's start, Lelouch having to readjust and compensate for the pressure being exerted upon him. The advantage, however, would not last long, with Lelouch soon forcing back the Colonel's offensive back towards the board's center, establishing his own line of defense. From thereon, the struggle became far more heated, planned to be surgical strikes turning into barbaric slug matches as each player moved and counter - moved so as to beat back their opponent, leaving no square be taken without some semblance of a fight.

Gradually, however, the Colonel's forces began to whither away at the prince's raids and skirmishes, his pieces separated and split apart, only for them to become encircled and, ultimately, vanquished.

The other members stood in admiration at the finale, the game having lasted a precise 1 hour and 57 minutes.

As Lelouch was able to speak, his head turned towards the trucks rear, observing the scenery before him, only to then freeze in place. So absorbed he'd become with his match against Tohdoh that he hadn't noticed the convoy having come to a halt, their destination but half a dozen meters away. There, at the entrance of the Kururugi family shrine stood Japan's Prime Minister, Genbu Kururugi, at his left a still aged Taizō Kirihara and the petite form of Kaguya, and at his left…

Suzaku Kururugi.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _More of a 'setting - the - stage' style of chapter, at least in my personal opinion, so I apologies if anyone finds this portion less exciting due to the lack of action, yet I personally_ _believe such portions are important so as to create a well founded plot. As a side - note, I always liked the Four Holy Swords, despite them being relatively minor characters, as you may have guessed. In any case, I hope you enjoy and are ready for more!_


	7. Chapter VII - Friends & Corporations

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

 **[ ]** \- Sound Effects

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

" " - Emphasis / Radio Communication

" " - Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter VII: Friends & Corporations**_

When most people tell others of their first meetings with their best friend, the stories are usually ones based upon rather positive notes, such as childhood playmates or school acquaintances; typical things most would say. Lelouch's first time with Suzaku, however, was not so perfect. Lelouch's first time with Suzaku, in fact, resulted in him getting a bloody nose. Ten years old he may have been, but the closest thing Japan had to a prince still disposed of a very nasty right hook. Of course the boy's father, Genbu Kururugi, had reprimanded the unwarranted act, though, even at the time, Lelouch had quite aptly noticed the not so reprimanding glint in the Prime Minister's eyes. At least the man took pride in his child, as opposed to some other, to remain unnamed, monarch and _father_.

But then again, that had been, at least to him, another lifetime ago, in every sense of the word. While such violent beginnings made for memorable affairs, Lelouch personally preferred to attempt and to avoid such an experience again, immortal or not. His Code might prevent him from dying, true, but it still didn't render one immune from pain, therefore it remained in his best interest to avoid a rematch with the overzealous meathead. Not to mention, as a sidetone, that their would be no crippled Nunnally to guilt Suzaku into halting his beatings, making the effort all the more serious.

'Though it would be rather interesting if I turned the tables on him.' Lelouch thought, an invisible smirk upon his lips. 'After all, I do believe it would serve as a kind of compensation for all the trouble he put me through for that first run.'

While vengeful images still floated around within his mind, Lelouch carefully disembarked from the Japanese military transport, some welcomed help from a newly respectful Tohdoh aiding him to plant his feet upon the ground, his legs slightly cramped from the long hours of immobile sitting.

Although he was going to attempt to initiate formal relations with his newfound hosts, it was, to Lelouch's expectation, that he found himself face to face with a glaring version of young Suzaku, a small fist flying through the air; its target: Lelouch's face.

Now, learning how to pilot Knightmares, contrary to the general populace's belief, is far from easy, the process being composed of a multitude of stages. To begin with, one must have a minimum amount of physical endurance, the controls of the standard, mass produced Glasgows and Sutherlands having always required a small amount of force to both adjust and manipulate. Not only this, but learning how to fight with a Knightmare, or basically what amounts to its primary purpose for even existing, is not a task that is accomplished only within the confines of the cockpit. Yes, the knowledge behind the war machines' parts, actions and movements remain essential, as well as the pilot's familiarity and acclimation to them, but such factors are only part of the larger whole. What is considered, in an arguably more important view, is the precise ability on how to fight, be it Close Quarters Combat, abbreviated CQC, or longer ranged styled engagements, typically with rifles or other such hardware. Details aside, the basic premise remains the same. Before one learns how to fight _with_ a Knightmare Frame, one must learn how to fight _without_ one. And if there was anything Marianne never did halfway, it was teaching others how to fight. Lelouch, much to his dismay, had been no different. Those many hours in the simulators where not the only reasons why he'd end up so sore by his lessons' end during those days. Mother's training had been as much as a blessing as it had been a curse, and he had the bruises to prove it.

'Mother must have had a rather physical childhood' He'd thought to himself.

And so, it was through the many hours of intense drilling, young as he may be, that Lelouch swiftly dodge the incoming punch and, by ingrained reflex, sent a swift, outstretched hand to the lower back of Suzaku's conveniently exposed neck, knocking the unprepared, and ergo undefended, Japanese boy out cold. It wasn't until a few moments later before he'd realized what he'd done.

"Oh." Lelouch commented, his tone sheepish.

Those nearby, more specifically an apparently disappointed Tohdoh and intrigued Genbu, simply eyed the two children's forms, one's face planted in the dirt, the other's simply starring blankly at his deed, an awkward silence hanging in the air. After several moments of, essentially, nothing, it was an almost enraged Chiba who spoke.

"What did you just do to him!?" She demanded, furry evident within her tone.

It was the much calmer, as well as amused, voice of the blue haired Urabe who answered, explaining how, "It would appear that Lelouch got the better of Nippon's Prince."

"But he just knocked the boy out!" Commented an equally flabbergasted Asahina, his face distorted in a manner expressing disbelief.

Then came Senba's apparent words of wisdom, commenting, "Well he did act in self - defense, it was rather obvious that Kururugi had intentions of attacking him, considering the fist and all."

Finally came the ever wise, as well as displeased, a displeased edge to his voice, stating, "Yes, I'm inclined to agree with Senba on this account, although I am rather disappointed at Suzaku's lack of restraint and poor form. I honestly believed he would have learned by now." His face then turned towards the violet eyed prince's own, Tohdoh continuing, "I must ask however; where is it exactly that you learned such a skill? It is not in my knowledge that Britannian children are taught hand - to - hand combat, at least not outside of the military, or at your age for that manner."

Himself rotating in such a manner so as to face the much taller military man, Lelouch both swiftly and calmly responded, "Mother never did things halfway when teaching me Knightmare piloting." The manner in which he'd answered was essentially nonchalant in its nature, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A confused Tohdoh simply stared at Lelouch, his left eyebrow quirked, as if not understanding the explanation. He then asked, rather incredulously, "Knightmare piloting? And what exactly is that?"

'Right,' Lelouch mentally chided himself, having caught onto his blunder, 'Knightmares aren't exactly common knowledge at this point in time. Oh well, damned for damned.'

"They're essential giant armored robots; humanoid tanks on legs if you will. Learning how to control them requires a rather extensive training regimen, I'm sure you understand." He explained, his voice flat and indifferent.

At this, so far unknown, detail, both the Prime Minister and Japanese soldiers frowned. So the Britannian Empire had a new weapon, one that had so far eluded Japan's eye, and that was, essentially, the equivalent of giant bulletproof soldiers? This did not bode well.

'We shall have to address this issue at another time.' Genbu thought, the most recent information proving to be of a rather important concern, although the current situation did not make the best of environments to further inquire on the topic. He would have to accommodate his newfound guest, as well as carry back his, to his ever so slight annoyance, currently unconscious son, first, and only then he choose to delve deeper into the matter, a panel of more educated figures at his back in order to more effectively grasp the situation.

And so went the 'first' encounter between the Princes Lelouch vi Britannia and Suzaku Kururugi. It would be quite a event to remember.

'Revenge is a dish best served cold.' Lelouch mused, an inkling of a smile drawn upon his lips as he dutifully followed the local shrine's inhabitants, the limp form of Suzaku swaying on Genbu's shoulder. At least things would get interesting from here on out.

* * *

Lelouch was no stranger to management, having gained a rather large repertoire of experience surrounding the notoriously pragmatic skill. Dutifully maintaining a home for himself and Nunnally for a period of over seven years (At least until Sayoko's arrival, though it was he whom, by his insistence, still managed the household budget), preventing Ashford Academy's bankruptcy by watching over Milly's financial pits from endless celebrations, controlling an organization of several thousand soldiers and Knightmares that made up the Black Knights and, to top it all off, acting as the Holy Britannian Emperor, a nation which controlled a third, and eventually, by his hand, the entirety of, the world, all made for a ruthless trial by fire, one which he'd taken too as fish to water. Now, this did not mean he could control each and every aspect of these trials (Save maybe the first), nor did it mean he was unable to tire, he was only human after all. What it did mean, however, was that he'd become quite adept, his past years of practice having truly rendered of him a well versed person within the realm. It was also why, at this moment, he wasn't violently pulling his hair out.

Although it had been just under a week since he'd first arrived in Japan, Lelouch's first priority was the consolidation and readjustment of the LAC, which he'd left, to his dismay, unattended since his premier day of exile, having been unable to access his seat of power due to a lack of computers, his primary form of communication to said company. He truly did despise some of the aspects of conservative and traditional pre - invasion Japan, especially that of a 'no - electronics policy other than those in the Prime Ministers office'. It, write simply, both annoyed and maddened him to no end, his nerves having remained on edge for the time being.

Despite such setbacks, however, Lelouch had, eventually, been able to cajole an ever so sweat and eccentric Kaguya into letting him borrow her portable laptop, a privilege she'd earned from the aged, although slightly less wrinkled, Kirihara. Sometimes he wondered if there wasn't some sort of familial relation between the two, with the way the old man acted towards the young girl resembling all too similarly to that of a doting grandfather and spoiled grandchild. He might choose to take a look into the issue in a more serious fashion later, the untouched data potentially coming in handy at a later time, thought it remained unimportant for the time being. In any case, through some skillful manipulation of his not - so - secret - crush's feelings, he'd finally been able to gain access to the outside world.

For Lelouch, the LAC served a multitude of purposes. First of all, the conglomerate acted as the exile's primary base of power, a foundation upon which he would be able to build up both influence and authority over various sectors of the Britannian administration. Using the dual economic and technological sledgehammers of his business' products, Lelouch would be able to utilize the armament driven profits and innovations to coerce, or blackmail, key military and political figures within the empire into providing him with otherwise legally unobtainable goods and services, spinning an elaborate web of various relations and connections, all of which over he held the sole authority to pull the strings. It, essentially, would grant him a dominant role while avoiding any form of direct association, and therefore responsibility, should the LAC's actions come under investigation, none of his contacts disposing of the ability to implicate the LAC or himself without pointing fingers at themselves while doing so, guaranteeing their portion set aside, the LAC also performed the secondary task of providing Lelouch with his future home, both for the upcoming and inevitable war, as well as the years that would follow. The reason for this were, ironically, due to Lelouch's own actions, Marianne's survival having preserved the Ashford family's position within the higher echelon's of the Imperial Court, rendering him unable to hide within the confines of the, now nonexistent, Ashford Academy as he and his sister had once before, thereby requiring him to find some new form of local where he would be able to lie under the radar and escape the watchful eyes of both his father and V.V., or so he hoped. The final, and arguably most important reason, however, was that the LAC would provide Lelouch with the necessary resources to topple both the Geass Order and Holy Britannian Empire, an enlarged deposit of money, men and materials on which he would be able to call upon when the time would prove ripe. To simplify, it would, for all respective purposes, act as the more greatly empowered version of the Black Knights, though with all the means and support to spare. Unfortunately, however, it was obtaining these goals that were proving difficult for him.

Lelouch's absence from the reins of power had, regrettably, considerably worsened the LAC's already precarious natural state. Although originally well positioned and organized, the prince's company remained highly vulnerable to its larger corporate rivals within the market, its recent bout of inactivity promoting an essence of weakness to these said entities, acting in a fashion similarly to that of spilt blood in a pool of sharks. The struggle for survival was was a lethal indeed.

Not only this, but Lelouch was hounded by the constant pressure to establish a regional company headquarters within the Japanese mainland, having no more than a few months, at best, before the Britannian invasion would occur, and, as a result, limiting the time for establishing himself a safe - house. Should Lelouch fail to have some place to run to before then, his only remaining option would be that of returning to Pendragon, the secret of both his Code and survival no doubt insuring some form of permanent house arrest, hidden from the world, acting as nothing but a tool gathering dust until the Charles and V.V. unleashed Ragnarök. Either that or remain trapped in Japan with nothing but the clothes on his back, the disappearance of his Geass severely hampering any other possible endeavors. He'd briefly pondered the thought of joining the JLF, though he'd come to the conclusion that it was unlikely that he'd ever be accepted, let alone allowed a position in which he could actually exert some meaningful amount of change. At best he could hope for an officer's rank, but nothing more. The options were bleak.

It was why Lelouch had been, therefore, working himself ragged in the last few days, his Code coming in handy by preventing him from collapse due to sheer exhaustion.

'I wonder why C.C. slept at all…' A stray thought made its way within the raven haired boy's mind, remembering the amber eyed witch in question. 'It's not as if she needed sleep really, the Code seems to prevent that.'

"Now to secure my future…" He softly muttered.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This chapter is only half the length of the typical ones so far, the primary reason being that I'm rather dissatisfied by it. While it started off relatively well, it appeared to gradually lose steam as it went on, ultimately leading me to a particular bout of writer's block. I therefore decided to cut things short, preferring to start a fresh chapter in which things, hopefully, will run more smoothly. I apologize in advance for any disappointments you may harbor, as well as for the much slower pace at witch updates have been** **occurring, school has been particularly busy these last few days.**


	8. Chapter VIII - Witches, Princes & Wars

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

 **[ ]** \- Sound Effects

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter VIII - Witches, Princes & Wars**_

Charles zi Britannia was, for all intensive purposes, in a suspicious mood.

For the past few months, the aging monarch had been receiving a rather peculiar series of reports from his division of finance ministers, their attention having focused mainly upon the seemingly unnatural, as well as irregular, patterns within the Empire's financial markets. Apparently, the Britannian stock market had been experiencing an enormous surge in the overall value of its national shares and bonds across the board, the prices and sales' returns of virtually every public Britannia company having reached, from a historical viewpoint, record high levels. Now, whilst, to the common eye, this sort of development may have been taken from a positive standpoint, both Charles and his ministers knew otherwise.

While commercial and fiscal growth typically served as the signs of an expanding economy, the currently accelerated rate of expansion was beginning to appear more and more alarming, dangerously so. Despite the advantages to an increase in market values, the hike in prices resulting in increased incomes for both companies and share - holders, the fact that many of said companies' shares' had attained highly inflated prices, amounts far higher than than they would otherwise be set at, acted as a definite warning of an all but impending financial meltdown. What made the entire situation worse, however, was the nature of the force driving these events.

In a meticulous, as well as grueling, process of investigation, one that, to Charles' annoyance, had allegedly taken the entirety of two months time, the Imperial Treasury had been able to track the massive array of purchases and trades having recently taken place within the market to a single titular company: The LAC.

Through a string of shell companies, dummy corporations and clandestine dealings, the LAC had engaged in a virtually unchecked spending spree, having acquired the equivalent of countless tens - of - millions in public shares and bonds, its targets ranging anywhere from women's fashion lines to ammunition suppliers. It didn't matter what was being sold, the LAC bought it. It didn't matter at what price the individual shares were set, the LAC bought it. And it didn't matter whether the company was proving to be successful or not, the LAC still bought it. To generalize, the LAC, contrary to all known forms of business, commercial and monetary logic, was simply getting its hands on anything it could, even if said stakes should prove to harbor no potential use.

The reasoning behind this strategy left both the Emperor and his advisor's in a confused state of mind. Why would the LAC do this, what purpose could it serve, what were its goals and, most intriguingly, where did its funding come from? While the LAC had shown a remarkable rate of extension since its public debut, one that still remained mired in controversy over the conglomerate's publicly anonymous CEO, the armaments manufacturer, by all professional accounts, simply could not, and should not, have had the necessary amounts of cash for the totality of its transactions. The company, through what could only be described as regularly ruinous actions, could only have been bleeding enormous amounts of money, endlessly purchasing ever more expensive shares, their prices continuously driven up by its own actions. The only fathomable way such a cycle could continue to endeavor was, to the general consensus of the Treasury, through the usage of vastly extensive loans, and yet no records of such credits could be found, neither towards the LAC or its subsidiaries. This unsolved mystery served only to deepen the already profound sense incomprehension among the monitors, a feeling which also pervaded the Emperor himself, causing him no small amount of ire.

'What is it that boy is trying to accomplish?' Charles thought, his mind focused upon the latest of many recently delivered fiscal reports, the endless lists of Treasury verified numbers and figures blankly staring him back in the face. He'd been personally scrutinizing the investigatory documents in question for the past several hours, his eyes searching for any specific patterns within the myriad of available data that may make their presence was inevitable then that, to Charles' satisfaction, several sequences began to emerge.

Although the LAC had apparently been carrying out purchases on a completely random unrelated nature, there were a variety of key industries upon which the corporation seemed to have had focused upon, including weapons assembly, armaments design, ammunition production, food distribution and, finally, construction.

"Construction?" The Emperor muttered, his left eyebrow arched as he re - read to himself the last of the LAC's, noted and rather aptly called, major activities.

"What are you mopping about now Charles?" Suddenly came the high - pitched voice of the Emperor's beloved, Marianne's raven locks flowing at her back, amusement in her tone. The 5th Empress Consort was currently donning a light blue nightgown, its color similar to that of her personal Knightmare, the Ganymede, as she flowed into Charle's personal study. The man had, in a rare turn of events, retired to his quarters at the Aries Villa instead of his usual imperial chambers, having grown tired of the stifling environment of the palace, not to mention how, despite outward appearances, it would enable him to enjoy a minimal amount of personal time with his favorite wife.

A similarly deep voice responded, "Empress Marianne, I'm surprised to see you still awake at this hour, what brings you to his Majesty's study?"

Marianne smiled as she responded towards the towering form of Bismarck, his figure standing at the Emperor's rightmost side, eyes hinting at comprehension, "Ah, so it seems that Charles brought you along as well. I was surprised when he'd failed to bring any baggages along with his escort, but then again he was never one for trips, weren't you dear?"

The man in question simply eyed the talking woman, his head lifting itself from its bent position so as to gaze into his consort's own, replying "You know me well Marianne, though I thought it prudent to bring Bismarck along, this information concerns us all."

Marianne's smiling facade fell slightly at her husband's somewhat serious tone, unsure of the problems potentially at hand. She then asked, "What is it that's troubling you Charles? And if this concerns our plans, why is V.V. not here?" The mentioning of the Emperor's older brother brought a frown upon Marianne's face, his being having remained a sore subject to the Empress, her anger and distrust towards the 'man' having far to go before even beginning to believe it would have a chance to leave her. The 'incident' of several months ago, despite its status - quo styled ending, remained fresh within her mind. She, to put things bluntly, refused to excuse the monster for his attempted crimes, finding solace only in the case that her son had, in fact, lived, beyond all expectations, all the while saving her in the process. But she was digressing. It remained that, despite her loathing towards the immortal, he still had to play a key role towards the initiation of Ragnarök, and so she therefore wondered about his absence.

It was Charles' powerful voice that brought Marianne out from her internal musings, his statement answering her previous inquiry of the boy blonde's absence, "It's because of Lelouch dear. Our son has been plotting something that is not in conjunction with our plans."

The raven haired woman's interest peeked at this latest statement, the mentioning of her eldest child intriguing her to no end. Since his supposed death and exile to Japan, the mother had not heard a word from her little boy, making any news of him a subject of great interest to her ears. Unfortunately, however, and to her dismay, her husband's attitude towards the topic seemed too dark to be the bearer of any good news.

Unperturbed by his wife's silence, the Emperor then continued, "Marianne, what is it you know of the LAC?"

Marianne simply starred at him in a prolonged silence for a moment, unsure of how to formulate a proper response to the unimposing question, before answering, "I'm afraid I can't help you too much on that sort of front Charles, Lelouch was never very open with his 'dealings' really. The only reason I even know of it was when I'd confronted him over his bank statements, when I forced him to explain were he'd been getting his money from, as I'm sure you remember."

The Emperor merely nodded in acquiescence before continuing in his explanation, stating how "Lelouch has proven to be far more active of late than he's been in the past. It would appear that our boy has been using the LAC to rapidly acquire major portions of the empire's more sensitive industries, specifically those pertaining to our military. He is preparing for something…"

Curious as to his majesty's commentary, the Knight of One questioned, "What is it you believe to be the 11th Prince's goal your Majesty?"

Charles merely sat upon his armchair, hand stroking his beard as he pondered in silent thought. Moments later, the man answered, eyes narrowed and vigilance in his tone, "I believe Lelouch has gotten wind of our plans. These moments of his are too well timed for them to be mere coincidence. He knows."

Marianne's eyes widened at her husband's words, alarm bells ringing throughout her mind. She queried, hints of anxiety lacing her voice, "Charles…Are you suggesting what it is I believe?"

The Emperor fixed his gaze into the Empress' own, unflinching as he answered, "Yes, it is so. I believe we will have to move up our timetable effective immediately, lest we let this son of mine cripple our efforts. He is clearly acting out of spite, therefore it is in our best interest to teach the boy a lesson."

Her love's harsh and unforgiving response did nothing to appease the violet eyed raven, as she weaved herself into the conversation once again, "And what of Lelouch, are you simply going to leave him there to fend for himself again? Charles, you know that he's more than just a tool, don't you?"

However Charles' resolve failed to waiver at his wife's, somewhat pleading, tone, his decision having since been made. He answered her yet again, voice flat and unworried, "The boy shall be fine dear, he is unable to die, you know that as well as I. As for leaving him there, I believe it would serve him well to learn just how fragile his position is. Once he has come to understand the implications of his actions, then you are free to retrieve him. But be warned, his existence to the outside world cannot be revealed, lest we compromise our position, is that understood?"

Marianne relaxed, but only slightly, at her husband's consent for her son's retrieval. She understood his reasoning, it was as solid as it was wise, though she still harbored reservations towards simply leaving Lelouch to survive in the middle of a war zone. Her son may have been as persistent as he was cunning but, immortal or not, the horrors of war was not something she wished to force upon him at such a young age. In a few years, more than likely, but one could only pray the young boy could be found before any lasting damage could come to his psyche. Such a prospect was not something she wished to face, despite Ragnarök. The plan shed lies and brought back the dead, it did not, however, heal minds. Still, wary of these possibilities, the Empress uttered a simple response, "Yes dear, but I better be given the chance to retrieve Lelouch at the earliest, that is non - negotiable, do I make myself clear Charles?"

His beloved's rather sharp tone of voice caught the aging ruler somewhat off guard, his eyelids snapping themselves open and shut in a series of rapid blinks as he verified if the woman's words had not been imagined. Having realized, however, that Marianne was simply glaring down upon him, a difficult task considering the rather blatant difference in height, despite his sitting down, the Emperor simply chuckled, amused as much as he was surprised, replying, "Of course not dear, of course not."

It was then that the stalwart Bismarck, so far unmoved, made his presence announced for the second time in the evening, "These matter set aside your Majesty, when is it you propose we launch the invasion?"

The remnants of a grin still etched across his face, the Emperor answered his loyal knight's question with one of his own, asking, "Bismarck, how many Knightmare Frames have the Ashford Foundation been able to produce at this point in time?"

Taking not but a second to come up with an answer, the goatee sporting knight replied, "The most recent reports state that the empire is now in possession of 230 Glasgows, your Majesty, a number that approximates to around 60 percent of the targeted completion."

Charles considered this information for several minutes, thinking over the possible implications of rushing Britannia's plans for war with Japan, before finally stating, "Such numbers will have to do. The O.S.I. informs me that Japan's forces dispose of nothing within their arsenal that could act as an effective counter to our Knightmares, therefore we shall retain a dominant technological edge over their troops. We may experiences slightly elevated losses for a time, however the time to strike should be a soon as possible before my wayward son decides himself upon opposing our plans and escalates these pointless conflicts. In any case, the Ashford Consortium shall continue to supply us throughout the conflict, so rest assured we will remain strong despite these loses."

Both Marianne and Bismarck subconsciously nodded at their liege's assessment, his reasoning being one of sound logic. However, the Knight of One's original question remained unanswered, so he questioned yet again, "This aside your Majesty, a date is still required of you. When is it you wish for the invasion to commence."

The Emperor grinned, a somewhat sadistic expression upon his face. He reached across his desk for the gold - inlaid intercom, pressing a single and titular red button, before speaking in a commanding tone, "Commence the operation."

An all but automatic response responded back towards the sovereign, _"Yes, your Majesty!"_

* * *

 _ **September 10th, 2010 A.T.B.**_

Blood. Fire. Pain. These words are best served to describe the sights and feelings Lelouch was currently experiencing as he awoke, his clothes charred and tattered from the deafening explosions that had shattered the pleasant nighttime tranquility of the Kururugi Shrine, his home of several months since exile.

"No…It's…too early." Came Lelouch's wheezed response, his lungs screaming for oxygen as he rose himself up from the crater in which he'd awoken, black smoke filling the air. In an agonizing and injured manner, the young Prince clawed his way back upon solid ground, the remnants of what had once been his room laying in discarded and burning heaps around him.

Lelouch had, much to his horror, gravely miscalculated. The situation in it of itself was, in a tragic way, a sick twist of irony. He'd been conspiring to extended the period of time between his arrival and the Britannian first strike, maybe even prevent it from occurring at all, by initiating a complete collapse of the Britannian Empire's economy, which was the real reason behind the LAC's otherwise illogical purchases. He'd planned, once a large enough amount of assets had fallen within his hands, to engage in a massive process of commercialized dumping, an action that would have instantly wiped out billions in revenue as share prices plummeted, bankrupting dozens of companies and annihilating millions of individuals' savings in the process, all the while utilizing the chaos to secure the actually valuable portions of the market, those associated with weaponry and armaments. It had been a well thought out plan, one he'd felt proud of. However, and much to his misfortune, it would seem that his efforts had, instead of postponing the attack, actually blown up within his own face, the invasion commencing a month ahead of its supposedly scheduled time, catching him completely off guard. The sheer rarity of such events brought him no small amount of ire. He, a boy abandoned once by his country, a son whom had once lost a mother, a revolutionary who'd united the world as one against the empire, an emperor who'd submitted said world under the proverbial boot, had been caught off guard. It was maddening. He'd always had countless sorts of emergency measures or contingency plans, and yet he'd failed to foresee such a possibility. He'd clearly underestimated his father's patience towards Britannia's acquisition of the "Land of the Rising Sun".

"This isn't good." Came Lelouch's muttered response, his eyes examining his battered form, taking notice of the 'clothes' and swathes of blood clinging to his skin. He'd most likely died, again, from the unexpected missile impact, a detail which failed to go unnoticed from the bombs in the past lifetime.

Making his way through the ruins of the Shrine, Lelouch noticed the presence, or lack - thereof, of any sort of military personnel or of the Kururugi family. Should they have survived, a fact which he believed to be true, considering the undamaged state of Japan's, soon to be ex, ruling family's living quarters. He also perceived them as having left not too long ago, considering the, still fresh, tracks of military grade combat boots and scattered civilian clothing. They'd most likely believed him to have died and then jumped ship, quickly shipped off to a safe - house of some kind in the countryside, a secure facility where the Japanese Prime Minister and his family would be safe for the time being. It didn't bother him too much, however, as it left him in the prime position to search the surrounding wreckage for any materials left behind which he could use for his upcoming journey.

While the earlier invasion had caught him off guard, Lelouch still had, much to his relief, a vast pool of resources left at his disposal throughout Japan. During the months as an 'honored guest' of the Nippon government, the violet eyed prince had aggressively pushed for the establishment of not only a localized LAC headquarters, but also two dozen manufacturing and development centers, within the northern portions of the Kinki region, rendering them close enough to Kyoto for rapid travel, yet far away enough so as to avoid the major areas of conflict, thereby minimizing the risks of collateral damage. However, it was not this area towards witch Lelouch was traveling. Instead, he would make his way to a small, concrete building not more than walk south of the shrine, a construct commonly known, at least in Japan, as a Lamperouge Public Defense Shelter, or LPDF.

The LPDFs were, by far, Lelouch greatest gift to the Japanese people, at least in this timeline. Despite initial troubles with the Japanese government, Lelouch had, though a series of carefully negotiated contracts, been able to purchase various parcels of land across the Japanese mainland, only then to launch the immediate building of the envisioned public shelters and marketing them to the general populace, announcing them as open to membership for no charge. In the days of his exile and manipulation of Britannian markets, large swathes of LAC funding had been poured into these defensive structures, veritable miniature fortresses in their own right. It was because of their erection that the LAC had so heavily invested into construction, agricultural and medicinal based trades alongside the typical sought after military ordnance, their roles and maintenance required a large influx of resources and capital.

The LPDFs were, to simplify, heavily armored bunker complexes, each individual unit covering the floor space of approximately 6000 square meters, a size comparable to that of most large office buildings. The structures themselves consisted of two distinct portions, the upper and lower levels.

On the upper, otherwise known as ground, level, the LPDFs possessed the appearance of a simple, albeit drab and modern, version of classical Vauban fortifications. At their outmost reach from the central lift stood a several meter thick concrete wall, its shape similar to that of a star. Upon these walls then stood several cylindrically shaped towers, not much higher than the walls themselves, with embrasures built into the sides. These towers housed a combination of large, computer automated anti - armor guns and anti - personal turrets whom, through the fortifications' relatively small sized and interlocking arcs of fire, made the structures highly resilient to enemy fire, as well as making them easily tenable by occupying forces. The entire design had been, at Lelouch's request, designed to maximize defensive capabilities in a limited amount of space, the entire focus being on the harbored civilian's safety.

The lower levels of the LPDFs, however, harbored the remainder of the complexes' necessary facilities. These included a small, underground warehouse, where both food and spare parts was kept, an ammunition dump, where the ground level guns resupplied through a built in conveyor system, a sakuradite fueled power station and a water purification plant. It also incorporated a medical bay, two gender specific public washrooms, a communal living area and 75 separate living quarters, each capable of accommodating up to 5 people, enabling the bunker's to house up to a maximum of 375 people, not withstanding on site LAC personnel, also known as Lamperouge Police Forces, or LPFs, whom inhabited the underground barracks. These troops had been created to act as both the LAC's and LPDF's internal surveillance and security forces, maintaining order within their respective posts, and were exclusively hired from a mix of Britannian and Japanese individuals so as to prevent any possibilities at racial violence should people of both groups seek common shelter. Their presence within the LPDFs were required so as to prevent chaos from erupting amongst fleeing refugees, as well as to insure the maintenance and protection of the fortresses' themselves.

Overall, it could be said that these constructs would act as temporary sanctuaries towards those victims of war, their carrying capacity being that of 6 months time, ensuring that, at the bare minimum, some lives could be saved. Unfortunately, however, the early outbreak of conflict had prevented many from reaching their final stages of construction, meaning not but a handful, around 16 of the planned 50, to be precise, had reached completion. In any case, it was the best Lelouch had been able to manage, and he remained grateful for them. His only task, for now, was to reach that closest near him, specifically tailored to include a single, extra room, his own.

'Now I just have to reach it.' Lelouch thought as he set out on foot, having to plow through, for the second time in his life, a war zone, a set of oversized clothes on his back and small knapsack upon his shoulder.

'At least Nunnally is safe.'

* * *

'Humans and their wars, how naive.' Thought an unfeeling C.C., her amber colored eyes starring blankly at her Glasgows internal screen, hands thumbing the machine's controls as she matched paced with Marianne's own purple colored Knightmare, a squad of APCs and tanks in between them.

It had been little over a week since the declaration of war between the Holy Britannian Empire and Japan and already the proud Nippon forces stood upon the verge of total annihilation. The newly developed Knightmare Frames, combined with the completely unexpected surprise attack by the overwhelming might of the Britannian military, had crippled the Japanese Defense Forces into nothing more than a relic of its former glory, its armies scattered, its navies sunk and its air force destroyed. The conquest of Japan, for all intensive purposes, was over. What remained of the enemy was, to be blunt, considered as nothing more than cleanup duty. It was this peculiar which, in fact, led C.C. to question her presence within the war torn nation.

"Why were you so adamant I come with you Marianne? You know very well how to handle yourself, so what purpose does my being her served exactly? There isn't even any pizza here, I would have much preferred to stay back at Aries." The witch spoke to her current contractor, the Empress, her tone neutral yet laced with annoyance.

Her radio burst alive as the woman in question responded, _"Now now C.C., getting you out of the Villa will do wonders for your health, all you ever did was stay cooped up in your room with the chef bringing you all the pizza you wanted anyway. Why, you should probably be thanking met instead of complaining, don't you think? As a friend I'm sure you understand. And besides, we're here because I needed to pick up a certain someone anyways, not to mention that Charles wanted to have a word with him."_

The immortal witch simply rolled her eyes at Marianne's remorseless teasing, having long ago learned to ignore the willful woman's jabs. She'd experience plenty of individuals with characters similar to that of the 11th Consort, so it would come as no surprise when C.C. simply ignored said taunts and simply continued, "And who is it exactly we are supposed to retrieve? Both you and Charles were rather mum on the subject and I don't exactly appreciate it."

An audible chuckle made itself known across the radio waves before Marianne yet again responded, _"But what sort of contractor would I be if I don't have some fun at your expense now and then? And why the impatience, you have all the time in the world after all. In any case, it's a surprise, and I'm sure you'll have plenty of more to talk about once you figure it out."_

C.C. simply let out an inaudible groan, frustrated at the raven haired woman's lack of cooperation. Centuries of experience or not, Marianne had an unnatural talent at getting under people's skin, herself included, much to her dismay. Not content with the Empresses' dodging, however, the green haired witch pressed on, her tone being more forceful in the hopes that her counterpart would finally give her a straight answer, "Marianne, are you really so childish as to be unable to grace me with a simple answer, or will you act in the ways an adult should?"

The lack of an immediate response brought a slight grin to the immortal's gentle features, a sense of satisfaction at her ability to finally silence, if only temporarily, the chatter - box Knight of Six. After several moments of tense silence, C.C.'s radio finally activated yet again, Marianne answering, _"Oh fine, there's no winning with you and you probably would have figured it out anyways. The reason I brought you here is so that you can help me find Le…"_

Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of the escorting imperial tanks became engulfed in an enormous explosion, its fuel tank rapturing and ammunition igniting in a Murphy's law style sequence, the starting point compliments of a Japanese RPG. It was almost immediately after that the surrounding roadside woods erupted in a mixture of both cannon and gunfire, remnant JDF forces violently peppering the oncoming Britannian convoy in an attempt to inflict a maximum amount of damage before eventually retreating back into cover.

" _Ambush!"_ Came the panicked cry of the Britannian column's senior officer, the shacking in his voice distinctly audible despite the radio's incessant crackling, the realization that his forces had been ensnared and were being systematically wiped out by vengeful Nippon natives only furthering his sense of despair.

Meanwhile, Marianne, as cool as ever despite being under fire, quickly rallied her troops, barking out orders across the waves, _"All soldiers fan out, do not let them focus fire upon a single point! Armor units are to engage the enemy infantry while ground forces are to eliminate the Japanese guns, do not let them destroy the APCs! C.C., your with me, we're going to destroy draw their fire and circle around them to cut off their retreat! Understood!?"_

The typical reply of, _"Yes, your Highness!"_ , rang loud and clear across the battlefield, the Britannian forces recuperating from their temporary shock and executing their leader's orders in the most lethal and efficient of fashions. The opposing sides soon found themselves in a form of stalemate, Britannian weaponry and training making up for their earlier losses at the Japanese surprise attack, with each opponent suffering a steady flow of casualties. It was now down to a matter of who would break off first, the conclusion coming down to the fact on which side had the most men who remained in the fight.

for a time, following several intense minutes of combat, that the Britannian troops would prevail, their superior firepower gradually eroding and pushing back the initial ambushers, the Japanese line wavering. The larger anti - armor guns had all been destroyed, enabling the APCs to move around more freely, mowing down enemy infantry in a so far unprecedented manner. The skirmish seemed to be winding to its end, the empire's opponents slowly falling back, until a series of detonations raked the rightmost flank of Marianne's forces, effectively crippling the pincer maneuver she'd been trying to accomplish.

"Of all the times reinforcements had to arrive!" Marianne growled out, her eyes focused upon the Glasgows sensors whom had picked up an oncoming squadron of tanks, their heavy - duty guns bearing down upon both herself and C.C., intent on eliminating the Knightmares that had played a key role in their country's downfall. As he Empress moved to evade the oncoming fire, she realized her accomplice's dangerously exposed position, noticing only moments to late at the fate that awaited the witch.

" _C.C. watch out!"_ She screeched over the radio.

The last thing C.C. saw was the unmistakable shape of a tank shell, the world turning a bright white as the ensuing explosion incinerated her machine's cockpit, along with herself, and then fading to black.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for the long wait, though I do hope this chapter fulfills your current needs. Feel free to comment or review, mention likes and dislikes, or anything else you might have believed. No matter the case, hope you enjoy, and until next time!**


	9. Chapter IX - Wartime Reunion

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

 **[ ]** \- Sound Effects

" " - Regular Speech

 _' '_ \- Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter IX - Wartime Reunion**_

Throughout the centuries of human existence, the madness known as war has come to be praised, glorified and even epitomized, the art of chaos and destruction having, long ago, wormed its way into the darkest corners of mens' hearts. The reason behind this is simple: War, an action which thrives entirely upon the bloodshed and suffering of mankind, is addictive. When one goes to war, he or she becomes endowed with a new sense of purpose and desire, an incurable lust for both control and authority; they are lured by the intoxicating nature of power.

Power. The power to take one's life, the power to send scores of men to their premature deaths, the power to dictate who shall live and who shall die, is exhilarating. Nothing, not honor, not wealth, not glory, has ever come close to the vehemently desired craving for power. It matters not what those men seeking to attain it were like or what they wished to accomplish, all hungered for the ever fickle and elusive concept. Some may have aspired towards dreams of personal gain, others longed for the betterment of others, yet still, in the end, such things were of little consequence. To adjudge one's fate, to transform one's world, one needs, requires, power. It is, by far, the ultimate catalyst for change. But war, that event through which power shines at its brightest and most potent, in the end, has never brought nothing more than squalor and torment, an unsightly truth hidden deep within the layers of lies, all for the sake power. And Lelouch, despite everything, loved it; and he could not prevent himself from his own self - loathing.

Power, more so than anything else, corrupts. Its very nature is one which has led, and still leads, men to their deaths, the relentless thirst for its acquisition resulting in a vicious spiral of both pain and loss, all those attempting to garner doomed to meet their inexorable fates, their humanity, their beliefs, their goals, their actions, the very essence of the soul, lost in their struggle, pulled into the dark abyss of misery and suffering.

Lelouch knew this, he'd experienced the phenomenon first hand, a series of tragedies eternally plaguing his conscience, each individual event more dreadful than the last: The death of his mother, the crippling of Nunnally, the war in Japan, the massacre of Shinjuku, the insanity of Mao, Euphemia's murder, Suzaku's betrayal, Shirley's assassination, the Black Knights' mutiny, Rolo's sacrifice, Ragnarök, the Demon Emperor… All manners of hardships and regrets brought along by his very own hands, whether directly or indirectly, and all in the name of a far off, borderline irrational goal of world peace. And yet he'd continued.

The ends justified the means, his dream had been accomplished, Nunnally's world secured, peace established. But the means stayed just as horrible, the blood on his hands acting as monstrous sins tarnishing his being, forever a reminder of the evils committed. And still he'd relished it, adored it to this day, for only power could change the world, a twisted irony.

"Still, it was all for the greater good…" Lelouch mumbled, his voice low and contrite, "And what does it matter anyways? After all, it takes evil to destroy a greater evil, so can anyone consider those desires as appalling as they claim them to be?" The question went unanswered, sound failing to reach his ears save for the staccato - like scratching of his dragged along footsteps.

Currently, Lelouch was making his way towards his the nearest LPDS to the, now former, Kururugi Shrine, his legs continuously moving his body across the crater filled path, the smell of semi - fresh corpses and remains of charred vehicles littering the roadsides of his advance. The overall atmosphere brought gruesome visions to his eyes, his mind subconsciously recollecting the horrors he'd seen less than two decades ago in a war all to similar to that of this time, memories enhanced by the grim spectacle playing before him once again. Had his psyche not have been of a strong enough caliber, strengthened by years of involuntarily conditioned pain, Lelouch had no doubt that he would have simply broken down and cried, vomiting what little food he'd eaten that Thursday morning. It would have been, for many, a display that was just too much to bear.

As he continued on his self - imposed journey, the raven haired boy caught a faint hint of luminous green upon the edge of his peripheral vision, the uncommon color invoking the image of a certain immortal witch.

'It couldn't be, could it?' Lelouch thought, head turning so as to garner a better view of the subject in question, a burning desire for answers enwrapping his mind. Leaving behind his meager supplies, the exiled prince carefully made his way towards the subject in question.

In the few moments it took the young boy to reach his target, his stark violet eyes widened in a seemingly cartoonish fashion, pupils dilating in utter surprise. Not but a meter away from his feet lied the completely naked form of C.C., her body resting limply within what he could only imagine as having once been the cockpit of a Glasgow Knightmare Frame. By all available accounts, or as far as he could fathom, the typically unfeeling woman must have perished during a fight with remnant Japanese forces, the evidence of battle laid bare by the various Britannian and JDF insignias on the lesser damaged vehicles and uniforms strewn around.

"What could you possibly be doing here C.C.?" Lelouch questioned rhetorically, aware of the fact that the youthful beauty was, by all means, unconscious. Whatever had most recently slain her must have been something of a rather forceful and destructive nature, the large portions of her body stained of black and red residue pointing towards some sort of explosion. This, added to the fact that she'd succumb within a Knightmare, made the most likely answer to be either a cannon or tank shell, neither of which would have incurred a presumably pleasant demise.

He stood there for several minutes in confused mesmerization, his mind racking itself so as to understand the meaning behind her being in Japan whilst his mother still lived, before returning to his senses, reality setting in. Whatever questions he'd come up with would have to wait for a more appropriate time; C.C.'s current condition had now become his main priority.

Moving his ten year old form right next to that of the witch's, an subconscious hurry in his gait, Lelouch, though not without great difficulty, hoisted the amber eyed girl into his arms, his hands hooking underneath her shoulders and dragged her towards a nearby APC, its underside upturned through whatever violent means such a position could have been accomplished, only to then proceed to lean her back against the underside of said vehicle. His passing glance took notice of the woman's face, its features both calm and relaxed, its expression eerily similar to those of bliss and serenity. Had she longed for death so much that those times in which she did die brought her happiness? The implication left Lelouch brooding. Immortality could, in certain aspects, come to be seen as a curse, yet life was simply to precious to just blindly throw out the window, at least in terms of his own personal perspective.

"I promised that I'd make you smile." Lelouch whispered, more to himself than to his 'newfound' companion, a steel like edge of determination present within his tone.

Having arranged C.C. in the most comfortable way he could, Lelouch unwarrantably took notice of her…indecent exposure, a light blush creeping across his face despite the inappropriateness of the action considering their situation and, even worse so, his age. Forcing such perverse thoughts into the deep recesses of his mind, Lelouch quickly refocused upon the task at hand: Finding her clothes, preferably ones that would fit.

'Might as well find myself a weapon while I'm at it. Immortal or not, I'm not exactly keen on dying.' The raven haired boy though as he set out upon his latest of quests. It wouldn't be long before night set in.

* * *

Charles zi Britannia often prided himself, although only whenever it was limited to the confines of his own privacy, of his exceptional patience. Despite having been seemingly born with the noteworthy character trait, Charles' years as the Britannian Emperor had helped to solidify this useful attribute, the endless whining and bickering of the court's nobles, combined with the ever - more dull droning of his, often incompetent, ministers, acting as a form of practice, gradually improving said skill with the passage of time. It was, therefore, that the monarch inwardly groaned as he felt his, otherwise generally staunch, composure beginning to slip as he digested the latest words of his favorite wife, an abashed image of the 5th Consort's face clearly visible upon the screen through which the duo were communicating no less than half a world apart. Hands dutifully massaging his forehead, the white haired Emperor questioned, "Would you care to repeat whatever it is you've just told me Marianne? I was under the impression that you'd apparently claimed to have _lost_ C.C."

Marianne's face shifted from guilt to annoyance, a slight scowl easily visible as she retorted, "You know exactly what it is I've just said Charles, don't play coy with me with these games of yours, you know full well that they don't work on me, and besides, I'm not exactly in the mood to play along, that alone should serve you as a warning in any case, you know how it is whenever I get cranky."

The Emperor's lips curled in a downwards fashion at his wife's rather disrespectful reply, unaccustomed to seeing such a crude side of her. True, Marianne was far more…liberal in her demeanors and choice of language, but rarely did she engage herself in such a sulking style of character, more often teasing or waving off whatever verbal ammunition both he and the court's fired at her, taking them as of little consequence or importance. It was one of many reasons for which he'd come to respect, and eventually love, the fiery commoner, and should the situation have been any different he would have simply paid no mind and let it go. Unfortunately for the both of them, however, their current topic was anything but unimportant, C.C.'s disappearance being one of great inconvenience.

Charles merely sighed as he spoke, voice flat and exasperated as he abandoned his customarily granite - like expression, the need for masks unwarranted for the private interaction, "I merely find it somewhat of a nuisance that you have lost our second - closest ally in the middle of a war - torn nation, especially when taking into consideration the fact that you had been sent there in order to retrieve Lelouch. This unwanted development is not going to favor our plans Marianne, it's difficult for me to hide my displeasure at this point."

The Empress' expression seemed to darken only further as she absorbed her husband's criticism, eyes narrowing, "While that's all very fine and dandy Charles, the truth is is that I've lost C.C. and have no idea on how to find her. Add to that my duties as Knight of Six for the invasionary force and I find myself with my hands tied. Now, as for your criticism I don't find them to be exactly fair, considering you have absolutely no clue to the circumstances I was in at the time."

"The please, do enlighten me Marianne, as I still find it difficult to believe that _you_ , of all people, would have difficulties keeping an eye on an otherwise completely apathetic immortal girl, your skills set rendering this whole issue all the more absurd."

A loud bang then suddenly echoed around the empty throne room, the sound of an angered Marianne punching her desk made itself known through the screen's speakers, "Damn it Charles I couldn't do anything! I might be a Knight of the Round but one Knightmare _cannot_ face off against two whole tank divisions, you simply can't dodge everything they'd fire at you, I would know because that's what I tried!"

Charles rightmost eyebrow then arched in interest, a simple gesture oh his hand signaling his wife to go on with her explanation.

"Me and C.C. were acting as the Knightmare escorts for a standard military column on route to Tokyo when we were ambushed by JDF forces and dealt a stunning blow. I then took command and was in the process of routing their forces before enemy reinforcements came in a destroyed my right flank and C.C.'s Knightmare. Charles, I simply couldn't get to her without inviting suicide, I really couldn't. In any case I had to pull back and return to our starting point, which is where I'm at as of this moment, by the way, and now have no way to get into contact with her, let alone find her."

The Emperor pondered his wife's explanation in quite silence for several moments before a certain detail came to bother him, "If what you say is true Marianne, and do believe that I do not doubt your word, then why hasn't she reported back to the camp yet? I assume she would have known the route to come back, yes?"

"And there lies the problem Charles!" The 5th consort irritatedly spat, none to pleased, "The fact is that she did know the way back to base and that she still has yet to show up, a detail which is really getting on my nerves right now, along with some apprehension to boot. Either she's actually on her way and the base hasn't noticed, which is hard to say since I've had patrols sent out ever since my return, or she won't or can't come back, either out of spite of me having apparently left her or because she was captured, both possibilities of which I believe to be minor, but plausible still. The worse thing about this is how we didn't even get to go on our scheduled search for Lelouch following the whole thing."

Charles looked on with interest as his wife's face shifted yet again from exhaustion and frustration to that of worry and concern, the woman's process of though now clearly focused upon that of her son's faith, thought he didn't know why.

"Why is it you say such things Marianne? Was the intelligence provided by the O.S.I. not sufficient for you to find the boy?" He asked, genuinely interested in whatever causes lay behind the raven's reasoning.

Marianne sighed yet again as she looked towards her screen as she deadpanned, "Not really, no."

The monarch was about to inquire further before his wife beat him to the punch, deepening her explanation, "While the O.S.I. did originally tell me of where he was at the war's start, which was the Kururugi Shrine, I'd doubt he'd be there anymore, seeing as to how it had been almost a week before today when the entire building was apparently destroyed by missile strike, and I'm not even going to bother questioning you on that piece of information lest I get angry with you. In essence I have virtually no lead as to where he could be, making this one of the worst days in my life."

As the Empress fell into exhausted silence Charles began to evaluate the overall situation, his conclusions being none to good. Lelouch was still missing, C.C. had vanished and, to top it all off, his wife was fatigued, both physically and mentally. The trifecta of problems made for a nasty combination.

Repositioning himself upright upon having realized his gradual slouching throughout the conversation, the man spoke in a both caring and stern manner, "These affairs will have to be dealt with at the soonest possibility Marianne, therefore the brunt of the responsibility will fall to you, so make sure to not fail me, as well as yourself, again. However, I advise you to get your rest for the following morning, the war has yet to truly close, our problems will have to wait until then."

Marianne response was one in the form of a small smile and curtly, "Thank you.", before the ongoing transmission terminated, signaling its end. As the retractable screen gradually slipped back into its concealed position, Charles' thoughts drifted, mind wandering, 'I will have to inform brother of this and he is most likely to be unhappy. What other obstacles are going to find their way into our plans?'

* * *

Death, eternal slumber. C.C. had longed for it for decades, maybe centuries at this point; in all honesty she couldn't really tell. The overwhelming desire to finally attain peace, to embrace the stillness of the dark, the ignorance that came when absorbed within the Collective Unconscious, remained the only reasonable goal she could strive for. There was, in her lifetime, simply to much pain and too little love for her to endure the hell that was living, nothing more than experiences she could easily do without. It was why, as the immortal woman gradually emerged from her state of limbo, that she sighed. Death had, yet again, eluded her. Had she not wept her due amount of tears long ago, C.C. made no illusions she would have at her rousing.

To her curiosity, however, C.C. awoke, not in the remains of a downed Knightmare frame, but instead lying on a makeshift pile of clothes, similar in purpose to that of a bed, a warm fire flickering off to the side, its sparks emanating from the small, hissing flames that cast a dim light onto her surroundings. The environment around her, she noticed, was noticeably metallic, the stainless steel gray of some armored vehicle's interior vaguely illuminated. Her eyes, adjusting to the dim glow, observed the finer details of her temporary abode, the eternal youth taking notice in the series of rank and file seats, as well as small - arms racks, lining said vehicles walls, their presence acting as an clue to her location.

'I'm probably lying inside one of the downed APCs.' She perceived, having recognized the all but inconspicuous Britannian crest upon the transport's roof, streaks of soft moonlight flowing in through puncture holes of various sizes across its armored hide, no doubt caused by stray shrapnel or other such projectiles.

Rising from her original laid down posture, C.C. then became aware of a light weight bearing upon her shoulders, eyes absorbing the appearance of a large and bloodied Japanese combat uniform with which she'd been dressed, a single tear present in the region frontal to that of the heart. No doubt it's previous owner was no longer in need of it, though the getup made questions arise. Just who's it that had moved and clothed her, and where were they now?

'Who could this mysterious benefactor be?' She inquired to herself, genuinely curious as to the identity of her 'savior'. The answer appeared in an almost immediate fashion, a sound of rustling coming from the opposite corner of the APC.

Crawling towards the sound in a catlike fashion, what C.C. saw brought on a not so mild amount of surprise. There, sitting awkwardly within the confines of the frontmost passenger seat, was the all too familiar shape of a small, ten year old child, raven black hair hiding away his, no doubt, closed eyes, rifle at his side. The boy's mere being here, let alone survival when, by all accounts, he'd been proclaimed dead, sent the witch's mind in an uncharacteristic bout of confusion.

"Lelouch?" She whispered, pupils dilating as she attempts to force her vision to improve, wanting to insure that whatever sat before her was real and not some figment of the imagination.

The young child stirred for a moment yet did not wake, his slumber either too deep or her voice to low for C.C.'s word to effectively wake him. As she placed a hand upon Lelouch's shoulder in preparation to shake him awake, the amber eyed woman realized that he was shivering, his balled up form ever - so - slightly vibrating as his body did its best in order to stay warm. She sighed.

"You've never been one to really look after yourself Lelouch, boya, have you?" She mockingly questioned, her hands slithering their way behind the boy's back and under his legs as she hosted him up, bridal style, carrying him to her 'bed' closer to the fire. He'd most likely had trouble falling asleep with the light it created and moved towards a more secluded, and darker, portion of the transport. It was a good idea as long as one didn't mind the cold, however. The September climate in Japan is often described as both hot and humid, at least to foreigners, though it was also common for the temperature to drop down significantly during the nights, explaining the Prince's making of a fire; he hadn't wanted her to get cold.

'Quite considerate of him, isn't it?' She mused, now sitting down upon her bedding with a cradled Lelouch in her arms, his head pressed lightly against her breasts as her own rested upon his hair. If the situation had been one of virtually any other kind, it could be said that the duo's position could be akin to that of a mother coddling her child, a heartwarming scene to say the least. C.C. was a witch, and ergo heartless, but that did not mean she was unable to display emotion. Centuries old she may be, but the essence of human nature was not something time alone could merely do away with. A slight movement against her chest signified the boy's slumber approaching its end, a quick look down giving her a glimpse of his fluttering eyelids. Lelouch's pupils fluctuated in size as they attempted to adjust to their surrounding environment, a tired and surly tone characterizing his voice as he spoke in a somewhat unintelligible manner.

"So this is…" He paused as a large yawn escaped from his mouth, testimony to his most recent state, "What its like to be Cheese - kun…" he finished.

The witch arched one of her eyebrow's at the Prince's remark, interested as to the origins of the statement. What was this so called 'Cheese - kun' he spoke of? Why did it seem to come to mind as he found himself wrapped in her arms? And, most importantly of all, what relation did it have to pizza? After all, the fact that an entire half of its name was the exact same as the all - mighty of pizza toppings must be of hint of some great significance, correct? In any case, C.C. noted within her mind that she would, sooner rather than later, receive her due answer to these highly philosophically important questions. Such findings would have, no doubt, great ramifications upon the future of the famous Italian dish, at least in her opinion. She would consider said knowledge as her due payment for her show of tenderness; it wasn't just everyday she'd expressed care towards someone, as she certainly wasn't going to do it only out of the goodness of her heart either.

C.C. was then brought out of her musings as she registered an unnatural rise in temperature near the region of her breasts, a large pool of heat having gathered around them. Straightening her back so as to allow her head to tilt downwards, the green haired woman noticed, with considerable amusement, the deeply flushed face of Lelouch, cheeks glowing in a laughably dark shade of crimson, his eyes widened in apparent horror at the positioning of his face in respect to her body. He sputtered, "Uh…Well I…C.C…. This isn't…Hem…"

Seeing as how the Prince appeared unable to formulate even the most basic of proper sentences while he remained within her embrace, the witch gently lifted him off of her lap and place him at her side, right arm draping over his shoulders in an dual attempt to both comfort and tease him at the same time. She thought such a gesture would help to ease into the all but inevitable interrogation Lelouch was about to take par, using companionship in contrast to the horrors of war he must've seen to better manipulate him, the fact that they'd known each other relatively well also acting as a sort of on the side trump card. He was a nice boy, but still, she needed answers.

"So…" C.C. began, her tone flat and unfeeling, "How are you alive?"

The question caused Lelouch to visibly flinch, his eyes widening before almost instantly returning back to normal, a glint of suspicion present within his deep, violet orbs. "I could ask you the same thing C.C., that Knightmare back there seemed rather beat for you to have gotten out of it unharmed, not to mention how I found you…" He cut himself off before finishing his sentence, the lude memory bringing back yet another blush to his face, although much more mild than the last.

C.C. was amused at how easily flustered the Prince would become at the mere implication of the unmentioned subject, though the fact that he seemed to be evading her question also brought on suspicions on her own. Just how did he survive? Could it be that he simply never died to begin with? After all, Charles was not above using his children as pawns in his game, so the idea of using Lelouch a bargaining chip, one that was already, at least officially, dead, rendered the boy all the more handy. But, if that were the case, why go through all the trouble to retrieve him, let alone send Marianne herself? While she could understand Marianne searching for him out of love, she doubted Charles felt the same. She continued, "My situation is rather special Lelouch, and my telling you isn't of any real importance, so don't bother overthinking it. That aside, you still haven't answered my question: How is it you're still alive?"

Violet eyes stared deeply into her own, the duo's gaze locking in within one - another. Several seconds, then a minute passed before Lelouch finally, and seemingly reluctantly, backed down.

"It's because I never died in the first place." He deadpanned.

The boy's lack of emotion was off for the typically emotional child, although, in his defense, virtually every other human on the planet appeared emotional to her.

'Lack of practice.' Was all the witch chalked the observation to. She was getting sidetracked though.

"You don't sound very convincing."

Again she was answered by silence for a moment, right up until Lelouch spoke again.

"Believe whatever it is you want witch, all I can say is that what I'm telling you is the truth." Lelouch deadpanned yet again, although there were the faint traces of annoyance seeping into his voice, C.C.'s insistent pushing most likely to blame. She decided to let the matter rest for now, she'd have her answers one way or another, and she had the patience to wait for them. Time was the one thing C.C. would always have in excess, much to her own personal dismay. She decided to switch topics.

"You seem to be holding up quite well considering the fact that there's a war going on, have you done this before?" She mockingly questioned, eagerly awaiting whatever outraged or unhumorous response to make its way out from Lelouch's mouth. What she heard, however, was not something she'd expected.

"Yes, quite a few time actually." The raven haired boy responded, sincerity present within every spoken word.

Lelouch's eyes then widened in surprise as he realized the slip - up, his face scrunching up as he began to mentally berate himself on revealing such sensitive information so easily. At this point in time he could not predict what course of action C.C. might take should she become informed of the underlying truth of his situation. He turned his head so as to avoid the narrow stare the green hair woman was now giving him.

"What is it your hiding exactly Lelouch? These answers of your's aren't what you'd call typical, especially at your age. Won't you tell me, as a friend at least?"

Despite the gentler approach, the tone in which the amber eyed girl posed the question left the impression of wariness. She was getting upset at how vague and indirect he was being, despite her change in topic. She was getting nowhere. Switch in tactics then.

"Lelouch, I'd prefer not use more…unsavory methods to get you to answer my questions. Wouldn't you rather just answer me honestly for once instead of avoiding the subject?" She questioned, emotion lacking yet again.

The boy in question only looked at her with disdain at the not so veiled, looking justifiably angry at the implications she was making. Good, at least she was eliciting some other form of reaction from him other than deception. His attitude was honestly getting yo her considering how he'd never seemed this closed when they'd interacted back at Aries.

"C.C…." Lelouch warned, "This kind of information is not something you should be prying into at the moment, can't you understand?"

Both opponents stared themselves down for the how manyeth time since they'd begun talking, neither will wishing to relinquish before the other, although, just as last time, it was Lelouch who gave in first. C.C.'s apathetic look simply could not be beat.

'It's not fair, she's had centuries to practice too.' Lelouch thought as he silently sulked. He would not let the witch get a bigger kick out of the situation more than she'd already had. "I'll explain things later C.C., alright? I just need…" He paused, unsure of what to name in lieu of an excuse, "Time to think." he ended.

Of course, C.C. saw right through and realized that he was vying for time, but she also realized he was not willing to talk at this point. Besides, forcibly invading his mind was more of a last resorts and immensely draining on her psyche, so she kept the looming threat as a sorts of back - up plan rather than a main course of action. The answers could wait until morning.

"Alright Lelouch, get your rest, and sit by sleep by the fire this time instead of sleeping off in the cold over there, it's ridiculous. Don't worry, I won't bite…much."

As she noted herself back to sleep, C.C. couldn't help but register the on and off ramblings of her roommate, word's of 'wicked witches making men sleep on the floor' pervading her thoughts.

'Where does that boya get all those ideas?' She inquired before becoming enveloped in darkness once more. It was a close to death as she could get anyways.

* * *

Word Count: 5182


	10. Chapter X - Itsukushima & After

**Code Geass: Enduring Retribution**

 **Key:**

 **[ ]** \- Sound Effects

" " - Regular Speech

' ' - Unheard Thoughts

 _" "_ \- Emphasis / Radio Communication

 **" "** \- Amplified Speech / External Speakers / Public Address System (PA System)

Disclaimer - Code Geass is owned by Sunrise Inc.

* * *

 _ **Chapter X - Itsukushima & After**_

 _ **September 24th, 2010 A.T.B.**_

The Miracle of Itsukushima, that's what the troopers were calling it. It was the sole and unique victory for the JDF forces against the Britannia invaders in the whole entirety of the Second Pacific War, a beacon of hope that burned brightly within the hearts of every Nippon national, a testimony that, no, the enemy was not invincible, that they could be beaten, and that, one day, the once proud country of Japan would rise again, reborn as a phoenix from the ashes of its conquest, strong and determined. Or, at least, that was what was being said. But Tohdoh knew better. Tohdoh knew the truth. Itsukushima was, for lack of a better word, a fluke, pure and simple.

The men now called him Kiseki no Tohdoh, otherwise known as Tohdoh of Miracles, testimony to how starved for victory they'd been. So low was their morale that, at the slightest hint of triumph, at the bare inkling of a win, they'd jumped upon the bandwagon and praised it as an unparalleled achievement, a success story worthy above all others. And yet, despite the praise, despite the accolades, encouraging words and cheers of joy, Tohdoh knew that their victory had been, at best, pyrrhic in its nature, born out of a mixture of detailed intelligence, planning, favorable weather and overconfident opponents. That wasn't to say the Colonel himself was a poor leader, far from it. It did, however, state that many factors had been sympathetic to his side.

It had rained the night before the battle, torrential outpours saturating the island's ground and turning the landmass into nothing more than a large, squalid pit of mud, sludge like earth slowing down anything and everything, from men to tanks to Knightmares, that attempted to make its way along the earthen roads.

The plan had been simple: Using the gathered up remnants of the Japanese Western and Central Armies, Kyoshiro Tohdoh and his Four Holy Swords would establish a defensive perimeter within the small costal island of Itsukushima, right off the northwest portion of Hiroshima Bay, and prepare themselves to engage in a last man stand against the ever unstoppable Britannian forces, vying to bring down as many enemies as they could before death came to claim them as well, honoring the ways of Bushidō. They would fight, and die, for their country. Surrender was not an option.

The assembled troops were, to be blunt, a pale comparison of their original numbers. The scattered pieces Tohdoh and his men had come across consisting of a variety of retreating, or worse, shattered fragments of differing army battalions, some nearing the size of company while others came closer to no more than a squad, each shred of what was once an individual and independent fighting force, varying in their roles and degrees of experience, reduced to nothing more than bands of men on the run.

Most were infantry, small groups of soldiers whom, either through luck or skill, had been able to escape the clutches of a relentless adversary, their weapons alternating between rifles, snipers, machine guns, mortars and more. Others, however, disposed of better equipment and, ergo, had more power, encounters with individual units and half - sections of APCs and mobile gun platforms brining in much needed firepower to the melting pot of a gradually forming rag - tag regiment. Finally, but far more rarely, came the unmoving or abandoned series of armored vehicles and tanks, their crews stranded throughout the region as they'd had run out of fuel, their sakuradite cells empty and depleted, requiring replacements. Their scarcity originated from the fact that most had been destroyed during the initial onslaught of the invasion, waves of bunkers on treads having been ripped apart by the, yet unknown, Knightmare Frames that treated them like tissue paper. Nevertheless, their inferiority put aside, the armored boxes' guns, given the opportunity for a proper shot, remained just as effective against the humanoid machines as much as they did against themselves, so they too were gathered up. By the time they'd reached the island, Tohdoh, as the highest ranking officer with his designation as Colonel, had control over 1234 men, 64 APCs, 29 mobile guns and, last but not least, 26 tanks, all of various makes and models.

In the two days he'd been given before the Britannian attack, Tohdoh had immediately set to work on digging in, working in close collaboration with Urabe and Senba, the more level headed of his soldiers, to establish the series of defenses that would ensure the maximum amount of inflictable damage towards an assaulting invader. The men dug trenches, the guns were camouflaged and the tanks placed into the hull down position. The APCs, on the other hand, stayed in reserve, their energy stores filled through the usage of all remains spares and removal of the other vehicles' fuel cells, so as to render them as a sort of dual purpose mobile cavalry and transport, the latter part determined to ferry any necessary men or materials from one part of the battlefield to another in a both quick and efficient manner. Then came that fateful day.

* * *

 _ **September 21st, 2010 A.T.B**_

It was at daybreak when the Colonel had first started received the scouting reports from the pre - positioned lookouts, a slew of radio chatter flowing into the temporary headquarter's command post on observations of the oncoming Britannia forces' composition, the amalgamation of countless details steadily forming an approximate image as to what kind of odds the 30 year old commander and his troops would be facing. What both he and those present heard was enough to make them collectively pale.

By all available evidence, the opponent forces seemingly consisted of anywhere between two to three fully manned Imperial army regiments, along with a detected three platoons of mixed armor and, worst of all, three squadrons of Knightmares, acting in support. The assailants, therefore, essentially outgunned and outmanned the Japanese by a rough factor of three to one, with approximately 4500 men, 150 armored vehicles and 72 Knightmares squaring off against Tohdoh's forces. Preliminary analysis, with technological differences taken into account, all pointed towards one singular outcome: Total annihilation of the island's defenders. This prediction, however, would turn out to be false, though only by a slight margin.

Confident in their massively successful lightning war across the Japanese mainland, the Britannian officers placed in charge of the offensive operation failed to adhere to the most basic teachings of warfare, preferring to, instead, simply jump headlong into the fray, reconnaissance and planning be damned. It would prove to be their undoing.

It was, just as in every other battle of the war, the Glasgows whom got sent in first, their role being that of piercing the Japanese front and severing said forces straight down the middle, allowing closely following allied infantry, as well as supporting armor, to then sweep into the area and conduct mop up operations, wiping away any and all forms of remaining resistance. The plan was quintessentially simple, battle proven and, quite frankly, utterly inappropriate for the situation at hand.

To begin with, the offensive's driving force, the Knightmare Frames, were quickly obliterated. The deep and viscous mud which laid upon the ground, clinging to the KMFs' land - spinners, robbed the otherwise untouchable death machines of their greatest attributes, their speed and maneuverability, effectively downgrading them to no more than sitting ducks, their hulking size making them easy targets. The Japanese guns, placed in a manner that acted both to conceal and create interlocking arcs of fire, made short work of the humanoid weapons. Yet the carnage failed to stop there.

As per the Britannian plan, a variety of infantry carriers and armored vehicles had followed in the wake of the robotic knights, their column like approach rendered slow and vulnerable by the same treacherous mud that had doomed their frontline comrades. The Itsukushima hills turned into a shooting gallery, torrents of gunfire, round s upon rounds of heavy caliber bullets and shells, pouring onto the unprepared attackers, unable to maneuver so as to formulate a proper response or counterattack. By then end of the first wave, little to none of the opposing forces had survived, while Tohdoh's own, on the other hand, remained largely unscathed. This would not last.

Outraged by their initial failure, the Britannian command choose to adopt a strategy of continual full frontal assault, the usage of human wave tactics chosen in order to wear down the JDF body through nothing but sheer attrition. After all, the Empire could afford such loses, whereas Japan could not. Whether out of damaged pride or delusional ideas of racial superiority, however, the Britannian method of approach remained the same as before, with wave after wave repeating their fallen brethren's' past failed actions and, as a result, meeting the same ends, though not without inflicting a certain number of casualties of their own, the onslaught of never - ending foes gradually locating, isolation and, inevitably, destroying, the few guns within Tohdoh's possession, grinding away at his strength. Had it not been for the strategic usage of the, until then held - back, APC's, as well as the overwhelming losses incurred by the reckless Imperial command, the battle would have, by no doubt, ended in an allied defeat.

It was only with the sun's setting that the fighting finally came to a close, the bruised, broken and battered remains of the Empire's forces having wisely chosen to retreat, sour in their greatest, and only, loss of the war to date. The affair, by all accounts, had been bloody. With night had came the casualty reports: Only 100 Japanese soldiers had remained unharmed and fit for service, the other 1134 either wounded or killed in battle, with all original vehicles, save for a dozen APCs, destroyed. It was at this point that Tohdoh had been faced with a fatal decision: Either he, the Swords and able soldiers could remain upon the island for the following day's attack, choosing to stay by the dead and wounded's side in honorable combat, or they could load onto the still working transports and attempt to find their way towards the Narita Mountains, where General Katase was rumored to have gathered his own remaining troops within the heavily protected fortress.

Unable to decide himself upon one of the two options, the Colonel had eventually settled upon a vote. The result was almost unanimous: Retreat to fight another day. The soldiers believed they had struggled with both valiance and honor; their minds having attained peace. The wounded, knowing that their need for care would only slow down those whom had successfully remained unharmed, elected themselves to stay behind, maintaining the camp's fires to uphold the illusion of the defenses' occupancy, their companions, in the meantime, fleeing during the dead of night.

* * *

 ** _Present Day_**

And so it was that Kyoshiro Tohdoh, the Four Holy Swords and the 100 other survivors of the Battle of Itsukushima found themselves around 20 miles from the former Nippon capital of Tokyo, on foot, the transports having run dry of their energy around three days prior, sun beating down upon their brows under a clear blue sky.

"How much further to General Katase's position Colonel?" Asked a visibly exhausted Asahina, his breath ragged and brow drenched in sweat from the hours long march he and his comrades had endured since their leaving behind of the APCs, his standard military rucksack and weapons only adding to his already hefty burden. It wasn't so much the marching itself that left him tired, no, as he and every other soldier, just like the men in every other army in the world, had been trained to endure such conditions with ease. It was, rather, the pure length of time they'd actually spent walking, an approximate eight hours so far, that left him spent.

Paying no head to his subordinate's behavior, one that seemed eerily close to that of a complaint, Tohdoh calmly answered, "There remains approximately 80 kilometers of travel left, so I advise that you conserve your energy Asahina, lest you crumble from fatigue."

"You shouldn't be so harsh towards the lad." Came the amused yet courteous voice of Senba, his face equally wet from perspiration, "Not to subvert your authority but, with all due respect, both he and the men, all of us in fact, have been marching for quite some time. Add to that the difficult terrain and our loads, I do think some form of a rest is mandated. It would allow us to recuperate our strengths and refresh our minds, Sir."

"I concur with Senba Colonel, I also think some kind of brief cutoff would be to the benefit of us all." Followed the weary voice of Urabe, hands brushing against his brow as he wiped off the salty liquid dribbling into his eyes. Truly they needed an interlude.

The only one of his Swords whom did not voice their opinion was the ever loyal Chiba, though, judging by her all too similar appearance, there was no arguing that she too was probably thinking of the same thing, even if she'd never voice such an opinion out loud, so long as it went against her leader's own, that is.

It was true that he as well was in a heftily worn shape, the on - foot travel having taken its tool on him in an equal fashion to his followers, the added fact that they'd been forced to navigate across open land, forests and hills, unable to use the roads out of fear of being intercepted by hostile forces, rendering the journey all the more arduous. Taking into account these circumstances, as well as his Swords observations into account, Tohdoh came to a plain yet critical decision. Raising his right arm skywards, hand balled into a solid fist, the Colonel shouted, "Halt! One hour's rest from this point on! Use your time wisely so as to eat, sleep or take care of any other important business you may be in need of! Be warned, do not stray to far from this point of you will be left behind, is that understood!?"

"Yes Sir!" Came the relieved cry of the nearby soldiers, many instantly slumping onto their rears at the welcome opportunity of a break.

'I must have truly been out of it to not recognize my own troops exhaustion.' Came the self - chastising thoughts of Tohdoh, surprised as to how oblivious he'd been to the all but inapparent signs. Maybe the battle and ensuing flight had taken more out of him than he'd initially led himself to believe. In any case, he had to insure protocol's following before choosing to relax himself, wary at how, even while hidden deep within the woods, they were still behind enemy lines.

'Although, I presume that it would be wise to assume the entirety of Japan is now enemy territory." He silently mused, reflecting on how grim his country's situation currently was. It would be quite some time before he or the unbending Japanese would even stand a chance to evict their imperialist invaders, much to his dismay.

Cautiously eyeing his surroundings, Tohdoh waved towards two of his nearby men, his hand signaling for them to approach. Once they'd reached about a meter from his sitting form, they asked, "What is it you require from us Colonel?"

Tohdoh replied, "I need you and the private to scout the perimeter in order to make sure there are no unwanted surprises lying in our wake. Our situation is precarious as it is. Take only your rifles, radio and binoculars with you, silencers included. The rest of your affairs should remain here. Make sure you survey a complete circle around us of, to make sure, 300 meters. That will ensure that we are out of danger for the time being. Should you fail to observe any potential threats and complete your round, you may then return and recreate yourselves while a replacement duo takes over your shift. That will be all. Dismissed."

Flashing their commander a quick salute, the two men then gathered their supplies and made their way through the woods, vanishing from sight soon after. Content with his meager yet important action, the drained Colonel stretched his back upon a nearby tree, opting for a quick nap. His mind was his greatest asset and, should he be prevented from thinking with a clear head, he held no illusions that both he and his men would meet their untimely end. His light slumber, to his mild annoyance, did not last long however.

It was the frowning face of Urabe to which Tohdoh awakened to, the man's palm resting upon his own shoulder, the Holy Swords' member having lightly shaken him until he'd woke.

"What is it Urabe?" The black haired Colonel questioned, words garbled by his groggy tone, "What is it you need to bring to my attention?"

The skilled swordsman looked down at his leader and answered, "It's the rations Sir, we're coming dangerously close to running out, for both food and for water."

Tohdoh's face scrunched up at the unpleasant news, having not expected a shortage occurring so soon. Then again, not all of the accompanying fighters had had their pre - packaged meals and bottled waters on them when they'd hightailed it from Itsukushima, many having lost their packs during the fighting. Add to that the additional time taken while moving from point A to point B, due to the need to avoid Britannian patrols, it all made a certain amount of sense why they were already running out. Pondering over the issue he asked, "Are there any edibles or sources of water we could scrounge off the land nearby, at least to briefly tide us over?"

The blue haired Lieutenant merely moved his head side to side in a silent gesture of no, explaining, "Chiba and I have already given a quick look around in the woods surrounding us, we wee unable to find any sort of fruit or plants that could be deemed edible, nor did we locate some form of stream from which it would be safe to drink. We are simply not in a proper enough location."

It was then that a crackling buzz emanated from the duo's personal handheld communicators, a distinctively Japanese voice sounding out over the airwaves.

" _Is anyone there, over? Can anyone hear us, do you copy? This is the scouting group sent out by Colonel Tohdoh over."_

Reaching for the small contraption at his side, Tohdoh unclipped the small, brown box from his belt and responded, finger pressing against the speaker button, "This is Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh over. What is it you've found scouting group?"

A brief silence ensued, for reasons unknown, before another transmission emanated from the radio again, opposing voice now recognizably lowered to the level of a whisper, _"We've located a small clearing less than 200 meters West from base camp Sir, there's some kind of fortified structure dead ahead with armed infantry patrols circling its walled perimeter."_

The idea of a heavily defended site so close to his own unprepared and resting soldiers did nothing to help ease Tohdoh's worry, concerned by its proximity and evidently armed nature. In need of greater details, he asked, "Are there any visible markings or flags that you can observe from wherever it is you're positioned? I need to know whether those inhabiting the building are to be considered as hostiles or not."

Silence ensued yet again as the scouts on the other line no doubt searched for easily identifiable designations, before an answer finally made itself known, _"We've circled the complex and are currently starring at what appears to be the front entrance. The letters LPDS are inscribed in large, black font on the rightmost wall. Does that mean anything to you Colonel?"_

At the mention of the publicly instituted civilian shelter Tohdoh smiled. It was not some dangerous enemy camp to which they had nearby made halt, but instead a neutral, defense oriented emplacement, most likely sympathetic to the Japanese plight. Brining his mouth closer to his device, he spoke, "What you're observing is not a hostile entity. Remain were you are, unseen, for the time being. Lieutenant Urabe and I shall make our way towards you as of now."

A simple _"Yes Sir!"_ wasregistered in reply before the radio's crackling ended, its power temporarily shut off so as to conserve its limited batteries.

"An LPDS Colonel? Are you sure that its wise to seek help there?" Questioned Urabe, perplexed at his officer's seemingly elated expression.

"Worry not Urabe, the presence of one of these shelter's comes at a good time for us. I sat on the approval committee as a military advisor when the LAC first approached the government for the project's approval. The parent company might be Britannian in nature, but the purpose and manner in which the systems were designed convinced me that there was no hidden intent at foul play. Now, that doesn't rule out the need for caution, as, despite everything, the camps remain under the LAC's control, and may therefore refuse to aid us by fear of retaliation from the Britannian authorities. However, it is in my belief that, with some carefully negotiated diplomacy, we may be able to receive some form of help from them nonetheless. We could always implore support from the inhabiting Japanese civilians at worst, seeing as how they would undoubtedly be friendly to our cause, as they could then pressure the guards into supplying us with the rations we need."

The grey eyed soldier listed carefully to his commander's explanation, facial features indicating as to how, he too, was going over and reviewing the information behind Tohdoh's words. He simply nodded throughout, only then to comment, "While I believe your reasoning is sound, are you certain that we should go alone Sir? I think it more prudent that we take at least another two to three men along with us, for security's sake, even though I'd doubt they'd open fire on non - hostile men. There's also the matter of explaining this to Senba and the others. I'm certain that neither Chiba nor Asahina will be in agreement with this, especially considering how the LPDS is of Britannian origins."

Tohdoh eyed the man and flashed him a brief, but pleased, smile, a rare sight from the otherwise unemotional man, before responding, "I see your points and recognize that you are not wrong, it is a sound idea for us to bring along more men, thought only two at most. I'd rather not us seem as antagonizing to the guards, it would be best to avoid trouble. As for the other Swords you should not worry. Senba will see the logic behind our views and, to be blunt, the other two will ultimately give into my authority, no matter their objections."

Urabe grinned in amusement at his commander's reference to the fiery duo of his squad, chuckling.

"Out of curiosity though," He began, intrigued by the Colonel's mentioning of his presence upon the original Japanese LDPS review board, "Were you able to meet the LAC's CEO during the meeting? I've been told that he remains anonymous to the public at large, even in Britannia."

Tohdoh shook his head in a show of ignorance, explaining how, "The man only communicated to us through a series of sent intermediaries and a single, brief video conference, at which time his face was blacked out and voice heavily modified. I do believe him to be young, however, as the outline of the speaking figure appeared to be rather small."

Urabe exhaled in disappointment, before getting himself once more on track, "So, when do we get started?"

* * *

As it turned out, Tohdoh's assessments of Asahina's and Chiba's reactions proved themselves to be spot on, much to his own consternation. They were brave and loyal followers, true, but they also harbored many faults, chief among them being their overbearing sense of nationalistic pride, a factor which render them innately suspicious and untrusting towards anything, and everything, foreign.

"Colonel Tohdoh, please, I urge you to reconsider!" Pleaded an evidently anxious Chiba, wary of the what she perceived as an up and coming danger, "That construct is under _Britannian_ authority, you'll be shot dead before you even make it to the front gate! They don't take prisoners, you know they don't! You've seen them mercilessly slaughters our men as POWs as if they'd been nothing more that animals! Do not let yourself be deceived by the outward appearance of things, you of all people should know this. I…"

Chiba's insubordinate ranting came to its halt as Tohdoh finally lost his patience, silencing the woman with a single bellow, "ENOUGH NAGISA!"

The uncharacteristic outburst from her superior caught the woman off guard, her head bowing in submission following the temporarily stunning shock. She knew she'd been getting on the Colonel's nerves with her ceaseless raving, but it was only to try and make the black haired man realize the obvious trap he was walking into. Still she obeyed, speaking with humility, voice lowered and laced with sadness, "Forgive me Colonel, I did not mean to usurp your authority, I only wished to attempt and make you realize the danger of the situation you are placing yourself in…Sir."

Tohdoh, having promptly calmed down from his earlier temper, merely sighed in exasperation.

"Chiba," He began, tone slightly softer than his usual neutral delivery, "I understand your worries and I have listened to your opinions, however the decision has been made. I therefore expect you to follow those decisions as pertained by my orders, are we clear? I have already been lenient with you and Asahina by allowing the both of you to come along despite my previous wishes to leave you behind at camp, so it is expected that you return the favor by accepting the situation as its stands. Do you understand?"

The brunette woman's only answer was a silent nodding of her head, eyes darting in multiple directions so as to not look into the Colonel's own. The four man group of Colonel and Swords, minus Senba whom had been left in charge of the recuperating forces, silently walked through the increasingly thinning woods before eventually coming to an overly large bush, two Japanese soldiers at its side, an unmistakably concrete gray fortress looming within the small clearing not but a meter away. Taking notice of the approaching group, the troopers turned to face their commander.

"Anything new to report?" Questioned Tohdoh, unsure of what sort of events may have occurred during the short walk to this hiding place.

"None that we can think of Sir. The patrols mainly stick to the walls and tube like towers when surveying the area and we believe to have yet to be spotted. There's also no indication of any kind of armored vehicle, at least any that can be detected by either sight or sound, so we are rather certain that the fort's garrison is comprised entirely of infantry. We did, however, reconnoiter a large gathering of civilian cars some 500 meters to the West, though it is unclear as to their being there. Would you mind telling us a bit more on what it is we're currently observing Colonel, you seem to know what that is."

Tohdoh's eyebrow rose in mild surprise, finding it interesting that the two men had not known of the LPDS, despite the large amount of publicity the LAC had pushed for throughout the Japanese media.

"It is a privately funded public shelter created by the LAC. Their purpose is to act as a safe - haven for those registered should violence or war break out, which, as you may have noticed, has."

"They're probably making a fortune by selling spots to our people too while they're at it, greedy bastards…" Came the lowly muttered comment of Asahina, his face plastered with an look of disgust.

"Ah, but that's where you'd be wrong Asahina." Came Urabe's voice, his two - sense shifting the bespectacled boy's features into an image of curiosity.

"And why is that?" The blue eyed boy inquired, intrigued.

Urabe gave him a grin as he answered, "Because not only are the LPDS privately funded, but they were also completely open to the public, free of charge, for anyone who wished to sign up or apply for residency, not to mention how the Japanese government received a very generous sum for the land it leased to the company."

Both Asahina's and Chiba's expressions faltered at this key piece of knowledge, their past assumptions largely undermined, however Chiba tried to hold out, "That doesn't change the fact they are still inherently part of the enemy, and therefore cannot be trusted. Not only that, there's also the point that they must have known something about the ongoing invasion; it seems just to convenient they would launch this type of project only months before the outbreak of a major conflict, so I'll keep my suspicions for the time being."

Urabe merely sighed at his friend's stubborn attitude, though Tohdoh took notice in the latter part of her rebuttal. While he was thankful for the LAC's construction of the shelters that protected at least some of his people, their construction in such 'convenient' time - span did elect some suspicion from him. He'd approved of the project and trusted its intentions, but still, he wouldn't mind if there was a greater amount of light being shed upon the subject.

'It would be interesting to meet the man behind the company.' He thought.

Pushing these speculations aside, the Colonel decided to get his group back onto the task at hand.

"Alright men, listen up: I, Urabe and Chiba will walk towards the main gate of the shelter in an attempt to parley with whoever's in charge. Privates, you and Asahina will remain here with your weapons ready should anything go wrong, with smoke grenades prepared so as to cover our and your escapes if needed. In the worst case scenario, should all three of us be either killed or captured, you are to rendezvous at base camp and have Senba take control of our troops. Understood?"

Asahina, though looking slightly troubled at the possibility of his comrades' deaths, bobbed his head in response, answering, "As ordered Sir, loud and clear."

"Good." Was the Colonel's reply.

Emerging from their hiding place, the small trio of two men and one woman slowly made its way towards the imposing steel gates of the bunker complex, weapons holstered but drawing hands at the ready. It took little more than a moment before they caught themselves observing one of the patrolling guards pointing towards them while apparently shouting out to one of his co - workers, his rifle at the ready.

As they came ever closer to the impressively thick walls, a loud grinding discord echoed throughout the woods, the sound of metal scraping on metal producing a high - pitched was which permeated the sky. It wasn't until the very large and heavily imposing canon ends of the, until now, hidden turrets were pointing directly at them that the group understood where the noise had originated from. Though Tohdoh kept his cool, he was practically certain of having heard Chiba swallow.

It was then that two men, clad in pitch black armor, a silver winged crest on their vests' breast, shape skewering the easily defined letters of LPF, emerged from a human sized door built into one of the larger gates. The duo's only visible weapons included their sidearms and what appeared to be a large kind of knife, though it didn't rule out the possibility of concealed ones. The first of the two held out his arm in the offering of a handshake, smile on his face as he spoke, "Welcome to Lamperouge Public Defense Shelter Number 1, I'm John Akiyama. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tohdoh eyed the man, no, boy, in front of him, carefully analyzing his physical features. To start off he was young, no more than 19 to be exact, and appeared to have a mix of both Western and Asian features, his olive shaped eyes and Japanese tinted skin to name two examples. The fact that he'd also introduced himself in the Britannian manner but while speaking in Japanese also gave him a clue to the youngster's origins.

"Are you of mixed blood? And what do that abbreviation stand for?" Tohdoh questioned.

John maintained his beginning composure at the, for him at least, common inquiry, visibly un - offended, responding, "Yes, that is correct. My mother was of Britannian origin while my father was from Japan. She was of minor nobility at the time so their relationship caused quite the scandal. She eventually left the America's to move to Japan, where she birthed me some time latter. Pretty fairytale - like story, I know, but it's the truth, although I doubt your presence here is to learn about my life. As for the letters, they stand for Lamperouge Police Forces. Were essentially the LAC's own private security force and maintain the shelters as needed. Now, all this set aside, what can I help you with?"

Taking comfort in the fact that his counterpart was of an, apparently, far more liberal background, the black haired commander asked, "I and several of my soldiers have been on the run in an attempt to reach friendly forces for the past few days and are now coming to close to running out of supplies." He began, being careful so not as to mention where his troops were located or what their destination was. He then continued, "It was my belief that you may be able to supply us with some food and water for our journey, if it isn't too much of a burden on the civilians you are sheltering of course."

John's smile dimmed at the JDF officer's request, an aura of uncertainty pouring out from his person. Maintaining silence for a moment, he began to respond in a slow and mindful manner, "I… Understand your plight, however that sort of decision is not within my authority to make if I'm honest. Let me…"

His response was cut off by a ticked - off Chiba, scowl on her lips and eyes narrowed in a threatening manner as she spat, "So you'd just let our comrades die from thirst and hunger, is that it? Are we not good enough for your charity? It's probably that Britannian side of your's that's controlling your reactions,isn't it?"

John's expression rapidly darkened at the woman's criticism of his heritage, visibly insulted. Tohdoh, instantly aware at just how quickly the Sword had placed negotiations in danger of collapse through a single unwarranted comment, quickly stepped in in order to salvage the situation. He turned, hand pointing at the woman while his voice held traces of both venom and steel, "Chiba, you will hold you tongue for the durations of this talk, understood! These comments of yours are completely unjustified in this conversation; we are here to request help from these people, not insult them!"

He then turned back towards John, now somewhat appeased at the fact of Nagisa's ruthless chastising, speaking, "I apologize for my subordinate's behavior, please continue."

Reacting to Tohdoh's commanding attitude, John cleared his throat as he reengaged himself into the conversation, "As I was saying, we are not lacking in supplies at the moment and would be glad to supply you and your men; the only problem is that the power for me to carry out such a task, or to make such a decision, is officially outside of my hands. However, I do have the LAC's CEO on site whom I can give a quick call in order to get his approval, it should only take a moment. Do you find it agreeable? I only required you to remain here for a minute or two, the time for me to relay the message across."

At the mentioning of the LAC's highest authority being present Tohdoh's eyebrows rose in fascination, his interest peaked at the newly uncovered information. Quickly agreeing he said, "Yes, of course, those terms of fine."

John, nodding back in assent, began making his way towards a small, red panel at the main gate's side, opening the iron box with a small, brass key. As John began to dial a number into the keypad of the built in phone, Tohdoh latched onto the whispered voices of the intermediary's, up to this point silent, colleague.

"You can't be serious, can you? Are you really going to call that kid? How can you even be sure he's our boss?" The man questioned.

John continued to punch in the appropriate numbers, not bothering to look back at his surprised friend, answering, "I know its weird but you have to face facts. The boy had all the necessary paperwork and evidence to prove he's the executive, as unbelievable as it may be. You known just as well as I do how much security there was to confirm it. Fingerprints, DNA testing, rectal scan, voice analysis; it all matched, he's the real deal."

The other, in a rather bitter manner, replied, "Working for a ten year old who owns a multi - billion dollar conglomerate, what's next?"

The idea that the LAC's owner was nothing more than a child acted in a manner akin to that of a bomb within Tohdoh's head, his mind caught completely off - guard by the revelation of such magnitudes that he didn't even wish to think of all the possible implications.

He came to realize he'd lost track of time due to his musings, John having, somehow, appeared once again at his side, hands behind his back as he was apparently waiting for something. Then, suddenly, the door through which the two LPFs had come through earlier opened yet again, this time with a lustrous, green haired woman, with hauntingly deep amber eyes, walking through, followed closely by the small form of a boy he knew all too well, those violet irises and the raven black hair instantly brining up memories of their first encounter upon the airport tarmac.

Lelouch vi Britannia.

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Word Count: 6380

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 **Author's Notes:**

 **Sorry about the wait but there's not much that can be done about it, but still, Spring Break! Expect far more frequent updates for the time being at least and hope you enjoy. This has been the longest chapter to date though, but not by much. Still, appreciate it! Now, about the last few chapters.**

 **I originally believed I would sail straight through the war and get to the, by now generally standardized, 7 year jump as most fanfics do. In this case, however, reality got in the way, with plot development, as well as my own imagination, making what had supposed to be one chapter become broken into a variety of them, such as C.C. and Lelouch's reunion, and this time the reappearance of the Tohdoh and the Four Holy Swords. I should also warn you that there will be at least 1 to 2 more chapters focusing on Cornelia and Kallen; I figured introducing them into the war at this point would be a great way to deepen their character development (Or make one to begin with considering the latter of the two), though be warned, there will be no romance between the redhead and the raven, so sorry KalaLulu fans. Those stories are well written, believe me, but it's my personal preference to have the witch and the warlock keep each other company.**

* * *

 **Reviews:**

 **Sacchin:**

 **Fluff, you need some of it. Plus, while I don't believe myself to be the guy to over fluff everything in sight, some amount of the stuff is necessary, but you're not complaining, are you now?**

 **MadeInBestKorea:**

 **Dialogue. Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue. My eternal foe. I completely agree with your point, and I too personally enjoy the parts where characters are able to interact with each other. It makes for a more fun and driving story and allows yourself to be pulled into the plot. I like dialogue...I just can't write it well. Give it time and some practice and, eventually, hopefully, it will get to the point where the majority of the story is upheld by those interactions. Thanks for the praise and constructive criticism, it helps, seriously.**

 **Everyone Else:**

 **Your reviews have value! I'm not begging for more, my ego is big enough. Just making you all feel valued as part of the larger group, at least for now. In any case, thank you and enjoy!**


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